First Contact
by Hazelnutkiss41
Summary: Spock meets Nyota's mother for the first time. And she's not like other moms. Please read and review.
1. Does your mama know about me?

**Disclaimer:** The story and original characters are mine, but the ST:2009 characters are not. I make no profit from this writing exercise.

**A/N:** This story has a companion piece,** Skin**. Any parts of this story that have an asterisk will also have a corresponding chapter of **Skin** that expands on the event under discussion in this story. Check the end of the chapter to determine where to look. I've also started minor edits to make sure there aren't any continuity flaws.

**First Contact**

**Chapter One: Does Your Mama Know About Me?**

**March 2258, San Francisco**

I stood in front of the window of his apartment, my arms hugging my shoulders, my head hanging down slightly. I answered the question he had asked me moments before.

"No, Spock, I haven't told her about you," I sighed. "Not really. She knows there's someone in my life, but she doesn't know it's you. I don't even know how to begin telling her about you."

I turned towards him, finally ready to face him. His complete silence revealed to me that my confession was as he had suspected: Nyofu Uhura had no idea of what he was to me beyond being one of my instructors at Starfleet Academy. And now, in less than three hours, my mother would be arriving in San Francisco to visit me. She knew I was doing well at the Academy; she knew I had an Orion roommate; she knew I sang in the Chorale. She did not know that I was very involved with my former instructor, who was also the half-Human son of the Vulcan Ambassador. My mother hated surprises. This did not bode well for the evening.

Spock had once asked me about my relationship with my mother, and I had described it as atypical. When he'd asked for clarification on what I'd meant by atypical, I'd frowned, looked at the floor, and then explained quietly, hoping he'd only hear the words, and not the pain and confusion behind them.

"We're not like you'd expect a mother and a daughter to be. I mean, yeah, she's my mom, and I love her as such... But to tell you the truth, we're more like sisters. The bond between us and the boundaries that define us aren't always clear. One minute she's telling me all about some wickedly scandalous relationship she had before she married my step-father, and then as soon as she meets my eyes and sees me looking shocked that she just told me what she did, it's like she remembered that she's not supposed to talk to me like that. She pushes herself away from me, gets all xenoanthropologist on me. She starts analyzing me and my behavior, like I'm one of her projects, instead of just listening to me and offering parental advice. My mother sort of needs a translator of her own. I spent a lot of time when I was growing up explaining to others what she means and why she does the things she does. Apparently, I'm the only one who even halfway understands her. And even I'm not fluent in her language. She means well, though."

"I suppose there is no uncomplicated way to inform your mother about what we are to each other." He said finally, standing quietly behind me, rubbing my shoulders in an effort to comfort me. Was my guilt over keeping him a secret that obvious? He made no further comment, but seemed to be preparing himself for some sort of rejection, probably one based on his ancestry. Wasn't that what he was used to? Not being Human or Vulcan enough? With my mother, however, his ancestry would be the least of her reasons for rejecting him. I realized I'd better explain.

"Spock, she's not the type to go crazy about your ancestry. Or even about the fact that you were my teacher. What she _will_ go nuts about is the fact that you're in my life at all. I'm her daughter, _her_ treasure, and _you're_ the person who's moving her over to a new place in my heart. That's all my mom needs to light into you when she sees you. I'm pretty sure she'll threaten you with some sort of bodily harm at least once tonight. And if she can get some of the other relatives to help, I'm pretty sure they'll even try to abduct you and threaten you again." I trailed off as I realized how it sounded. Okay, the family could be weird, but they were not going to harm a Starfleet Officer. At least, I didn't think so. No, they wouldn't. They were all good people at heart. And they loved me enough to trust me. I drew on my memories of them, drew on my better memories of her, and drew on the love I knew lay behind all of their oddities. And things had gone very well when he'd met my aunt, Makini, two months before. Remembering those things gave me strength. I turned in his arms to face him, hoping the look on my face would reassure him that my mother was not dangerous. "She won't actually try to hurt you physically, I swear she won't," I pleaded, hoping I didn't sound too desperate. "But she probably will try to provoke an emotional response of some sort." I loved her, but I just didn't trust her not to indulge in her one true vice: annoying people.

Staring into my eyes, Spock felt my conviction that my mother would only threaten him, if she said anything at all. He lowered the eyebrow he'd raised. He would trust my instincts on this, but he would be wary. "So you are saying that, in her way, your mother is territorial, and will respond to my presence in your life as an encroachment on her territory?"

"Yes. That's it exactly." Maybe he did understand. "I think you're the first person that ever made that comparison that quickly."

"Vulcan males are territorial as well, so I do understand the concept."

Uh-oh. I hadn't thought about that. Could my mother's behavior tap into _that_ side of my lover's psyche? I hoped not. Unfortunately, my mother did have a history of annoying Vulcans in particular. They reminded her too much of her sister not to resist looking for potential wounds to pick at. Oh, oh, oh, I really should have put more thought into this meeting. Maybe I should have just opened up and told her everything when I'd had the chance. But there were some things that I really didn't want to share with my mother, even if she would have thought of it as girl-talk. Latest crushes were girl-talk. What I had with Spock was something else, something not meant for chit-chat and giggles.

"Besides, after what happened the last time I saw my mother*, well, I didn't think our mother-daughter relationship needed any more shocks right now."

"And if you do not mind my asking, what happened the last time you saw her?"

"When I was home for a visit during our last break, she barged in on me when I was in the shower. She's always done that to me, walked into areas that should have been private for me. Like she's never noticed that I'm not a little kid anymore. Do you remember how we spent the hours before I left?" I watched his face as the memory replayed itself in his mind. There was a slightly greenish blush on the tips of his ears. Oh, he remembered, all right, as I knew he would. "You left marks on me: on my neck, my breasts, my hips, my thighs." I closed my eyes, savoring my own memory of the afternoon.

"You marked me as well," he said quietly. But there was heat in the quiet, not cold observation.

"Yes," I said softly. "I was glad to. I wanted to make sure you didn't forget me while I was away." I moved closer, began running my hands over the places on his chest that I'd marked. "Forget-me-nots. And I had my own set to remember you by." I embraced him, laying my head on his chest, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed, feeling his heart beating against my side. "Anyway, when my mom barged into the bathroom, she noticed your marks."

He seemed to stop breathing for a moment. Spock and I had long debates on similar subjects, so I knew he had studied enough about Human parent-child relationships, old Earth customs concerning virginity (or the assumption of its existence), and similar customs among other species to suspect that my mother might not have been thrilled to discover that her daughter was now a fully adult woman. "And what did she say?" Spock's voice held a small note of caution.

"She just stared at me for a long time. She asked if the marks were what they looked like. And I said yes. Then she asked if I had consented to having them put on me. I said yes. Lastly, she'd asked me if I'd lost anything that couldn't be replaced. And I said yes. Finally, she said that she didn't like seeing those marks on me, and walked out of the bathroom."

"Before she saw the marks, did she know you were sexually active?"

"No."

For the first time since the subject had come up, Spock let me know that he had an inkling of what he was in for at dinner. I caught a ghost of his thoughts: capture (as in being in a public place without a clear way to exit gracefully); interrogation (as in being questioned about his life history); torture (as in being probed and analyzed by my mother in a test of wills and his devotion to me); invasion (as in being questioned on the most intimate details of our romantic life and expected to answer, lest he be perceived as being a pervert). Tonight promised to hold all the hazards of an away mission, without leaving the planet or meeting a new species. He tightened his hold on me and permitted himself a long sigh. This definitely did not bode well for the evening.

.

*see **Skin**, Chapter 1


	2. The naming of Uhuras

**Chapter 2**

I rested my head against him for a moment longer. It felt wonderful to rest in the security of his embrace. I didn't want to think about what might happen at dinner, what almost always happened with my mother outside the boundaries of the family. She would begin the evening perfectly poised, articulate, and polite. And then at some point, if left to her own devices, any interactions with her would deteriorate into something I would have to apologize for, or explain away. How many friends had I lost this way over the years?

K'diwa. I often called him by those sounds, chose to use his words over any one of the multitude of words Terran languages had to describe someone who completes you. I had worked hard at becoming his friend when I was his aide, opening up to him, even when I was sure he had no clue what I was trying to tell him. The stories I shared with him... he knew things about me that my mother didn't know, that even some of my oldest friends back in Kenya didn't know. As we'd gotten to know each other better, I'd been patient, explained things to him over and over, in the minutest detail, until I felt he understood the motivations and mores of those involved. Gradually, he'd begun to reciprocate, to share with me. The crush I'd developed on him when he was my instructor turned into affectionate respect. It didn't take long for that to deepen into love. In the beginning, all I wanted was for him to hold me close and make me feel safe. With him, everything I was...was enough. Spock was my lover, yes, but he was also my friend. Someone I didn't want to lose.

"_I would never leave you because of your mother's behavior, K'diwa."_

I jumped as I both heard his words with my ears and felt his words in my head. He'd spoken them, in Vulcan, in a way that both my head and my heart could understand. Of course he wouldn't. How silly of me to even consider it. No, it would take more than one of Nyofu's rants to part us. He pulled me towards the couch where we could sit down and talk comfortably. We really needed to.

"Share with me, please. You were not upset when your aunt visited you two months ago. As I recall, you were excited. And although you introduced me to her as your instructor and close friend, it was clear from her facial expressions the rest of the evening that she understood that our relationship was more than platonic. She seemed amused by the idea that we had become a couple."

I searched his face. Looking closely, I could see concern. "My aunt shares some as the same interests as you. Her specialty is computers. She worked on a starship before she was badly injured. She's worked planet-side ever since, but she's still drawn to the stars. And Makini is... Do you remember what I believe about names?"

"You told me that you believe that a person's name holds clues to that person's inner nature, or even his or her destiny."

"Yes. I knew you'd remember. Makini. Calmly. Quietly. With dignity. That's who she is. That's how she does everything. Even when she disagrees, she does it quietly. Very few things ruffle her composure. Makini was calm from birth, never cried much, never asked for much as a child. She was my favorite playmate when I was growing up, even though she was old enough not to feel like bothering with me. I've always loved her for spending so much time with me. She used to take me for long walks near our home and point out all the different trees, insects, birds, animals. She told me every one of them had a voice, had something to say. If I just listened, I could learn it all. So Makini and I used to go out and just listen. After a while, I could tell exactly which type of insect or animal was making a sound. Not just a cricket, but a particular type of cricket. Not just a field mouse, but one normally found in the neighboring village. Now, I can't _not_ hear something. Every voice is different, every sound is clear. Makini learned to hear me, too. She understands how I feel about most things. I didn't have to tell her about you. She knew as soon as she saw us together."

He looked thoughtful, probably remembering the quiet, dark skinned woman with the limp and the burn scars. "I had thought your ability to differentiate languages came from natural ability that you trained once you took an interest in xenolinguistics. Your anecdote suggests a different sequence of events. Am I correct that your high degree of aural sensitivity preceded your interest in languages?"

"You are. My mother and step-father are responsible for the interest in languages. Once my mother returned home after years of studying off-planet, she began to bring some of her work with her. There were always vids of people speaking, PADDs filled with strange marks. I wanted to know what they were saying. The sounds, the sounds drove me crazy. High tones, low tones, clicks, growls, thick sounds, guttural sounds, melodies of sounds. I asked my mother what they meant. What were the people saying? She told me that if I wanted to know, I had to learn it myself. She could have taken the time to explain her work to me. She chose not to. That made it a challenge. When my mother got married, her husband started bringing volumes of literature with him from all parts of the Federation, even Klingon poetry. Once he saw my interest, he volunteered to teach me what the marks meant, and how marks on a page could make a person weep or smile. I've always loved that man for opening my eyes to the joy of words."

For lack of a better word, the "light" came back on in Spock's eyes, letting me know that he'd completed his analysis of the information I'd just given him on my relationships with Makini, my step-father, and my mother. It was time to come out of the past, time to put away the little girl who listened to frogs in the night, time to put away the older girl who memorized the volume of Klingon poetry, fascinated by the way the meaning changed when she could read it in its original language.

"Makini's visit did not create this level of anxiety because, by nature, she is non-confrontational. Since she has invested copious amounts of time in entertaining you as a child, she has a better comprehension of what might be of value to you as an adult. When she encountered the two of us, she immediately decided that we were well matched. Therefore, there was no need to comment on our relationship. She gave her approval though her silence and facial expressions."

I gave him a wide smile. It was thrilling to behold the look that crept in his eyes when he finally understood something that had eluded him. Subtle, of course, but unmistakable if you knew how to read him.

"Nyota, you have shared much with me this evening, and for that I am grateful. I now know about some of the people who share your life. Yet I continue to sense intense anxiety from you. You have other, more pressing, concerns about this evening. Please, share them with me." Now it was his turn to plead. He needed more from me to understand. He had to know everything.

"Nyofu is not like Makini. Her name describes the person we wish she was, not the person she is."


	3. Welcome to my nightmare part 1

**Warnings: child endangerment, suggested recreational drug use.**

**Chapter 3**

He reached for me, knowing without my saying that I was close to a breaking point. I took a shaky breath and accepted the arms that enfolded me. I would not cry. I would not cry. I would not cry. Crying was for the days when I was alone. I was at Starfleet Academy now. I had many friends, ones not connected to her. I had the beginnings of a career of my own choosing. I was following my own dreams now, my dreams. And I was in the arms of the most wonderful sentient being alive. I was not alone anymore. But the tears escaped anyway and burned their way down my face. Hot, silent, angry tears. How to explain? There were words to tell him what was wrong, but words were clinical. I moved out of his embrace, turning slightly so that I was facing him. I knew what my face looked like without looking into a mirror. I had been at this place often enough to know: eyes red, brow furrowed, raw anger pouring from every pore, making me feel fevered. I turned this face towards his, adding determination to the other emotions displayed there.

"Do you trust me?"

"You have only to search the growing bond between us to know the answer to that question, Nyota."

"Tonight, I need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I trust you completely."

"I want to _show_ you, not _tell_ you, what's bothering me. I want you to meld with me so I can show you, but you said that emotions get transferred along with the images. You would feel what I was feeling in that moment. You would feel what I'm feeling now. I don't want to do that to you. I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy, let alone you."

"Nyota, what do you need?"

"For you to know what I know, know how I feel, so I don't have to say it." After a lifetime of holding my tongue, I didn't know how to express what I felt when I thought about my mother.

"Then I will give you what you need," he said as his long fingers stretched towards my face. His fingers. I had watched him play his _ka'athyra_ with those fingers, watched him as he coaxed music out of the instrument, fingers strumming, plucking, tapping the strings. I had felt him playing my body with those same fingers as if, I too, were an instrument of some kind: fingers caressing, stroking, teasing, coaxing a different kind of music out of me. Now, he was willing to use those fingers to allow me to deliberately cause him discomfort. What kind of courage did that take? Or was courage just another word for loving someone so much you'd do whatever you could to help that person, even if there was a danger to yourself? I relaxed as much as I could as I felt him make contact with my psi points. I heard him say the words that began the ritual.

"My mind to your mind."

I felt him slip into the first layers of my mind. Gentle, a tentative, but purposeful touch. I felt him get his bearings, so to speak. He'd been in my mind before, but never this place.

"Your thought to my thoughts."

My memories were irritants, and they were covered in layer upon layer of mother-of-pearl. He would have to dig deep to find what I needed to share.

"Our minds are merging."

I could feel him inside, becoming part of the fabric of my mind. So close.

"Our minds are one."

I felt him pierce the last barrier between the now and the once upon a time. It hurt. I'd braced myself for the sensation, but it still hurt. Reflexively, my hand shot out, grabbed hold of his shirt. I held on tightly as he walked in a place deep inside my psyche even I seldom went anymore.

_"Guide me, Nyota. What am I seeking?"_

I called up an image of myself as a young child. _"Look for her." _It didn't take him long to find what he was searching for.

I was four years old. I knew my name and the names of everyone in my house: Grandma Ukarimu, Grandpa Kwasi, Auntie Makini, Uncle Hodari, Uncle Hakimu, Cousin Kesi, Nyofu, my mother. I knew my address. I could tell you how to get there. I was scared, scared, scared because I was alone. I felt like this before; I was mad, too. Where was she? Mama brought me to the festival, when there was light all around, and I could see the sun and the faces of people. Now it was dark, night, and I was alone. Where was she _this_ time? Mama brought me here, but she was gone. I was alone. I called her. Mama? I stretched my neck out, trying to see above all the dark heads. I tried to listen for something I knew in all the noise of the music, the hand clapping, the foot stomping of the dancers, and the calls of the people selling things. I was too small to see anything. Mama said I was small because I was born too early. In too much of a rush to cause trouble, she said. I was alone, hungry, sleepy. Where was Mama? I stayed where she told me to stay. I walked with the woman she said was named Peg. But Peg went away, and now it was just me. Faces stared down at me when they noticed they'd bumped into something small. Me. Some faces were blank, some faces were surprised, some faces looked mad. One face looked like he was thinking of something. Then his face changed, changed to something else. I didn't like the something else I saw. Where was Mama? I stayed with Peg, like she said to do, but Peg was gone. And I didn't like the something else I saw in the man's eyes as he followed me. When I looked up, he looked up. When I turned towards a sound, he turned, too. The man scared me more than being alone. I won't stay here and wait for Peg to come back. I won't stay here and wait for Mama to come back. Mama went off with her friends and told me to stay with Peg. She did this before, left me with someone I didn't know. I was scared because the man was much closer now. He'll catch up to me soon. I bumped into someone, a woman this time. She was holding her head. It must have hurt. Did she bump it on a rock, like I bumped mine last week?

"Are you okay, child? You feel as if something is upsetting you."

She was still touching her head, as if there was something in there that shouldn't be there. How did she know? I might have been okay if Mama was here, if it wasn't dark, if I wasn't far from home. And if the man wasn't watching me talk to the woman. Makini said if I ever got lost, to find a policeman. I was looking for a policeman, but I didn't seen one. Maybe the woman can help me find one? Or maybe she can take me to a hover bus stop? I know how to get home from there.

"I can't find my mother." That was the truth. Sometimes Mama told me not to tell the truth, like when we left the house earlier. Sometimes she told me to tell Grandma that we went one place when we really went to another. When I tell the truth, Grandma and my mother yell. I don't like the yelling, but I don't like lying, either. Will this woman yell at Mama, too? I was worried. Will Mama yell at me for not being where she left me, for not being with Peg? When I bumped my head, she said it was my fault for not being careful. I was too fast, too careless, I don't think enough before I do things. Grandma looked at the bump, put ice on it, and said it was Mama's fault for not watching me when I was climbing on the rock. Which one was right?

The woman looked over the crowd. She looked like she was thinking about something, then she looked mad. Slowly, she turned to where the man was standing, watching us, She looked at him for a long, long time. Her face looked angry. The man looked at me one more time, then turned into the crowd.

"Do you know how to get home?"

"Yes." I gave her the directions. The woman smiled at me. She looked happy.

"Well, you seem to know a lot. I will help you get home." She smiled again. The woman looked around one last time. No one was looking for me.

The woman and I left the crowded festival area and walked to the bus stop. She asked me many questions. I answered. I liked her. She told me she was from Betazed, and that she sensed my emotions. That's how she knew something was wrong. She told me stories on the trip, offered me some fruit she had in her bag. We arrived at my stop. The woman, Liana, delivered me to my grandmother. Grandma thanked the woman for bringing me home. I was in the kitchen with Grandpa eating dinner when I heard my mother's voice. I heard her asking if I was at the house. Grandma surprised me. She said no. I looked at Grandpa. He put a finger to his lips. Be quiet. So I listened while Grandma pretended that I wasn't there. Grandma questioned Mama for a long time. Mama didn't have many answers. Grandma taped loudly on the table. Grandpa brought me into the living room from the kitchen. He put me down on the couch, slapped his eldest daughter hard across her face, knocking her to the floor. He left the room without saying anything. Only Grandma's voice made any sound.

"A Betazoid woman brought her home this time. How many times will you lose your daughter before you realize that, one day, you may not get her back?"

It hurt, remembering these moments. I wanted it to stop, but Spock had to understand the trouble between Nyofu and me if he was going to understand exactly what was happening tonight. Very little of tonight would really be about him, once she understood his place in my life. No, this would really be about her and me.

I was seven years old and having a good time. Dancing. Singing. I had no idea where I was. Nyofu. She wanted to go out tonight, and the only way to get out was to take me. She pulled me off the dance floor, laughing as she apologized to my much older dance partner. Nyofu took me to a quiet room, handed me two cups and a bag of dried plants.

"Separate this into the cups. Plants go here. Seeds go there. I'll be back." Something new to do. I was tired of dancing anyway. I started to separate the mixture. A man came into the small room. He watched closely.

"What are you doing in here?" His eyes were not like the man at the festival. This man seemed safe.

"I came with my mother."

" Your mother brought you _here_?" Of course. Everyone on campus knew that Nyofu couldn't leave the house without her daughter. If there was a party, expect the two. Have food a child can eat.

"Well, what are you doing?"

"She said to separate this stuff into the cups. Seeds go here, plants go here." Easy work for a smart girl like me. He stared at the plants before getting upset.

"Don't touch that! Let me take it."

He took away everything: cups, plants, seeds. Nyofu will be angry. Is this my fault?

"What's the matter?" A woman had heard him yell. She came into the room to see why.

"Look at what this kid had!" The woman looked at the bag.

"Oh my! Where did she get that stuff?"

"She says her mother gave it to her. Told her to separate it."

"You did the right thing. It's bad enough someone brought it here, but to give it to a child? Come here, Sweetie. We'll find you something else to play with. Are you hungry?"

Tonight I was "Sweetie." Last night I was "Little One." Last week I was "Little Lady." When can I be Nyota? The man and woman took me to the kitchen. I was hungry, but now, I was shy, too. Gone was the dancing, singing Nyota. I knew it. I tried not to cry, but the tears came out anyway and burned their way down my face. Hot, silent, angry tears. I did something wrong. Nyofu's fault. They opened the stasis unit, and I pointed to foods I knew tasted good. The strangers made my dinner. Another woman came towards us. This one I knew, one of Nyofu's friends.

"Are you her mother?" The man looked like some kind of cat, snarling. I imagined he had claws waiting to swipe at her face. I knew this woman, Karina, but I didn't like her, because she beat her daughter, my best friend.

"No, but I know who she is." Karina answered, not telling everything she knew.

"Well, you tell her, that if I ever see her child touching these off-world drugs again, I'll report her to the authorities." He held the bag, shook it in the Karina's face. He handed her the bag, then stood between where Karina was standing and where I was sitting, eating my meal.

"Can I take the girl, too?" I saw on her face that she wanted to get out of the room with the bag. With me, too, if possible. But definitely with the bag.

"No. I don't trust you, or her mother, whoever she is. I'll take her home." I was just glad I didn't have to go with her. I didn't trust her. Mama said she was safe, that Karina would take care of me and protect me. But I saw her hurt her own child too many times to believe that she'd never hurt me, too. It was another time that I had left home with Nyofu, but arrived home long before she did. Another time to witness that not everyone shared Nyofu's definitions of right and wrong. Another time to have her glare at me as she put ice on the handprint on her cheek. Another time to hear her rant under her breath about how everything would be different once she finally got out of this place and took her daughter with her. Why did she sound like me saying what I would do when I grew up?


	4. Welcome to my nightmare part 2

**A/N: A warnings: major mother-daughter issues here. Watch your step. I am adding dates because I have heard complaints that it becomes difficult to follow the time shifts in memories.  
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**Chapter 4: Welcome To My Nightmare, Part 2**

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A mind meld was a two-way street. I was reliving torturous moments of my childhood and adolescence. Spock was not only seeing my memories, he was getting my remembered feelings in full detail. I wasn't sure how he'd react when this was over. As I aged in my memories, the texture of my thoughts changed. There were less purely sensory images now, more concrete thoughts.

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**2246**

I was ten. Unofficially, in my household, there was no greater insult than to be compared to Nyofu. Whenever my grandfather was angry at me, he slammed his hands down on the table, hard, and called me by _her_ name.

"Damn it, Nyofu! You – "

It wasn't a conscious decision on his part; I could see it in his eyes. Underneath the anger of the moment, there was shocked surprise when he heard _that_ name come out of his mouth instead of the one I was born with. And I could tell that, even he, was wondering if he was really mad at me, or mad at the woman I looked so much like. It didn't matter though. The accidental insult hurt worse than the reprimand he'd intended.

"I'm _not_ Nyofu! I'm Nyota!" I hit the table just as hard, stood up to make sure he saw me. Me. Me, with eyes blazing. Not her. Me.

The older I got, the more I grew to resemble her. The more I grew to resemble her, the more I found I had to express my own opinions about things, lest everyone assume I was her in miniature. When my grandmother didn't want to hear my adolescent opinions on things, all she had to do was sigh, set her face in a disappointed frown, and say the words.

"Ah." The sound of a new discovery or an old memory. Her brown eyes, hard, cold, rolled in my direction. "I forget whose daughter you are." As if to say, why should I expect great things of you? You are hers, after all.

And my face would burn with shame. Another cut, another wound. But I was not Nyofu. And one day, I would make them all remember that.

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**2247**

I was eleven. In science class, we were studying human biology. I read the chapter on human reproduction, and for the first time, understood the open secret in our family. I was Nyofu's bastard child. Other children had fathers, either living with them, near them, who sent them messages when they couldn't be there, or who were tragically deceased. I had none. I didn't even have a name. She'd refused to give me that much when I'd asked. When I asked her who he was, told me he didn't want me. When I asked her what he looked like, she told me to go look in the mirror. I had his eyes, his hair texture, my complexion was lighter because of him. Nyofu had plenty of boyfriends, but none were ever interested in taking responsibility for the girl they, at first, assumed was her little sister. I looked into the mirror again, tried hard to imagine a lightly complected man with the features in front of me. I knew better than to ask her if any holos of him existed. And for months I looked into the face of every lightly complected man I saw on the streets of my hometown, and wondered if he was the one.

.

**2248**

I was twelve. She was leaving, an opportunity to study off-planet. My mother had decided to make a career out of studying "other people." I wondered if she would've spent more time with me if I was like the "other people" she found so fascinating. She seemed to like them better than me, better than all of us. She certainly spent more time with them, living or dead. But who needed a daughter that reminded you of someone you wanted to forget? Or parents that lived and breathed disappointment every time they looked at you? Or sisters and brothers that were concerned about their own lives and not yours? Everyday Nyofu made me feel like I didn't belong in my own family. Like I had no right to exist. And I was still too fast, too careless, still didn't think enough about the consequences of my actions. Or so she said. But maybe I wasn't the only one in the family that was too fast, too careless, and didn't think enough about the consequences of her actions. I had learned some other things in science class. So I asked her a new question.

"Mama, you were nineteen when I was born. Things now aren't like they were in the past. Even young women have choices. Why did you have me? You didn't have to..." She looked at me for a long time.

"What do you want me to say, Nyota?"

"What do you want to say, Mama?"

She had no answer for me, but I knew. Gone were the days of wishing things were different, and how things would be for us when she finished her studies. We glared at each other in frightening silence. This was not my fault. I was not going to feel guilty anymore. She looked away first, but I didn't feel like I'd won anything. I sensed hurt, something she'd never let me feel from her before. It was...unsettling.

"What matters is that you're here. I kept you. You're my daughter. Mine."

I was her daughter, but I wasn't her property. I was thinking of a way to bring up that point when she spoke again, still looking at the ground instead of me.

"Promise me you'll tell me...before you do something stupid like I did."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Promise me you'll tell me before you give yourself to someone."

Give myself to someone? As in let a boy touch me? There? The only thing on my mind was passing Calculus. I definitely wasn't thinking about boys. At least not yet, not really. I stared at my mother like I'd never seen her before. Maybe I hadn't. And why did she need to know, anyway? Wasn't that my business? I opened my mouth to speak, to tell her that it wasn't any of her business, that I wasn't her property. She looked up at the same moment. And she didn't like what she saw on my face.

"You think you're so damn smart, don't you? So what you're at the top of your class. I was, too. It doesn't matter. There's a lot you don't know about the world. You need someone who's been there to guide you. You can't learn everything from a book, you know? Come and talk to me about things. Not to Makini. She doesn't know anything about life. Makini's solution to everything is to meditate and see if the problem looks different the next day. And your grandmother's just like her, getting lost in religion, instead of trying to figure out her own path. Ask me. Come to me. You never come to me about anything. I had to find out from Makini that you'd had your first period. Why didn't you tell me?"

"When are you ever around for me to tell you anything? Anytime I come to you, you're busy. You've got a shuttle to catch. You're going out on a date. You've got to finish a paper. You're reading a book. You're looking out the window. You're picking your nose. You're scratching your ass. Everything I know, I had to figure out for myself. Or I had to figure out who could help me. When have you ever taught me anything?"

The words that were coming out of my mouth surprised even me, but I just couldn't stop it. I was getting more and more upset as the seconds ticked by. We were walking on a narrow path, one with green sloping hills rolling away from it. At the bottom of the hill, on the right side, was a large farm, one belonging to one of our neighbors. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just make out the shape of a person standing at the base of the hill. The person was watching us. Normally, I would have been too embarrassed to let others watch me argue with my mother, for them to see me respond to something the way she would have. But this time I just didn't care.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that. Don't forget whose daughter you are."

"How can I forget? Nobody ever lets me forget. If I do anything wrong, everybody reminds me whose daughter I am. Everybody's just waiting for me to mess up in some big way, so they can all say 'like mother, like daughter'."

"There are worse things than being compared to me." Nyofu said quietly. Her eyes were raging, but she was speaking quietly. She lifted her hand.

I was walking at the edge of the path, trying to put as much distance as possible between us, when I saw her raise her hand. She had never raised her hand to hit me before. I didn't trust her not to try it now. I had said too much, hadn't I? Too late, I saw that she'd raised her hand to wipe a tear from her eyes. Too late to stop from myself saying what came out of my mouth next.

"No, there isn't. I hate you."

She froze. I stumbled. The blue sky and green grass exchanged places over and over as I tumbled down the slope. When the world finally stopped moving, I lay there, stunned. Stunned by what I'd said. Stunned by what I'd felt in that moment. I laid there, looking skyward, saw my mother's shocked face as she looked down. I tried to lift my head, stretched out my hand to her. She disappeared, going back onto the path. I laid there with my head in the cool green grass and did something I hadn't done in a long time. I cried. I was still crying when the sky disappeared, blocked by a large shape looming over me. I blinked away the tears and found myself looking up, up, up into the face of the darkest man I had ever seen. He looked down at me, face filled with concern.*

.

**March 2258**

Spock broke contact before he could see any other memories that stood out like festering sores in my mind. He had seen enough. Slowly, shakily, he drew his hand back. Just as slowly, I let go of the place where I had balled my fist up in his shirt. He took deep breaths, trying to center himself. He spoke with his eyes closed.

"All of my life, I have endured the taunts and criticisms of other Vulcans regarding my mother. Yet she has never been the source of weakness they perceived her to be. My mother has always been my staunchest supporter. On the day when I stood before the Vulcan Science Academy Council, and I asked her if I should undertake _Kolinar_, she assured me, that no matter what I chose in life, she would always be proud of me. My father, Sarek, has always tried to guide me. His way is different from Mother's, yet no less meaningful. My parents have always wanted me. I was the child they had longed for, hoped for. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to grow up feeling that neither parent wanted you. How painful that must have been for you." He said the last part slowly, softly, as he opened his eyes and looked at me. Looking into his eyes, I knew that in front of me, was one person I didn't have to wonder about. This person wanted me.

"Now do you understand why meeting her tonight bothers me? It's not just my fears about how she'll react to you. Every time I see her, I get pulled back into that place, where I'm a little kid, and I just want her to love me. To tell me I did something right. I've never had any serious doubts about whether my grandparents, aunt, uncles, or cousins loved me. But with my mother, its always this insane battle of wills, or some kind of twisted game that only she knows the rules to. It's okay if _she_ insults me, but no one else can. It's okay if _she_ makes me feel like I'm nothing, but don't let anyone else do it. And if someone does hurt me, she'll fight to avenge me, then she'll tell me I'm stupid for being in that situation in the first place. There's no way to win with her."

"Perhaps it is time to change the game." Spock was back to himself, no longer haunted by my emotional baggage. His brown eyes were cool, and for the first time since I'd met him, I found myself thinking...dangerously cool. My very significant other no longer radiated concern about how to endure my mother. Now, he was cool, calm, collected, and planning God only knew what. Oh hell. This did not bode well for the evening.

.

*see **Skin**, chapter3


	5. Breaking the habit

A/N: Special shout out to my beta, Ashlee Elizabeth, for having the patience to read through my rough drafts, tell me if they make sense or not, and making great suggestions.

**Breaking the Habit**

"Change the game, Spock?" What was going on in that Vulcan mind of his?

"You used the metaphor of a game to describe the current relationship between your mother and yourself. I visualized it as a game of chess. Winning or losing a game is dependent on the strategy one uses when facing an opponent. From what you have shown me, it appears that, contrary to appearance, your mother's behavior is _quite_ predictable. When confronted with a situation that causes discomfort, she begins an emotional confrontation to distract from the true issue."

Spock shifted closer to me, close enough to kiss, but he reached out and touched my face instead. "You, _k'diwa_, have developed a lifetime habit of avoiding such confrontations with your mother, either by acceding to her demands, or acquiescing to an implied directive not to engage in the dialogue that causes her discomfort." I shifted my eyes downward. Did I really have my very own part in my mother's irrationality?

"It is a noble effort on your part, to try to maintain the 'peace,' or should I say, a survivable level of animosity between you. Your strategy is flawed, however. You and Nyofu remain in a stalemate, with neither progressing beyond the moment." He did kiss me then, softly, a gentle brushing of his lips against mine. I wrapped my arms around him, deepened the kiss into something that wasn't so gentle. I needed a distraction from what he was telling me. I wasn't comfortable with seeing that, in some way, I allowed my mother to make me feel the way she made me feel. I also needed reassurance. Spock thought I could do something to stop the cycle. So how did I stop it? Spock pulled away first, answered my unasked question.

"I am suggesting that, tonight, you do neither of these things. Change your strategy. Do not be noble tonight. Tonight, continue any confrontation she initiates. Do not allow her to disengage."

It sounded so simple. Make her finish what she started. And why not grow wings while I was at it? I sighed. When was the last time any of us in the family had actually finished an argument with my mother? Grandma Ukarimu and my mother argued often; tradition afforded my grandmother an upper hand in their relationship, but my mother was always pushing the limit. Ukarimu's age and final word on everything guaranteed the outcome of those arguments, unless Nyofu fought dirty and used terms and concepts that went way over my very country girl grandma's head. Or over a country boy's head, too, for that matter. Grandpa Kwasi was the one Nyofu inherited her temper from, and he displayed his just as viciously as she displayed hers when they fought. Again, tradition allowed a father's word to be the ultimate one. Those arguments tended to end in a slap when Nyofu was a young. Now, they ended with Nyofu walking away from her father, shaking her head in disgust as she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, about how it was useless trying to have a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent. Since he believed in the pit of his gut that his daughter's education did make her somewhat better than he was, he tended to fold himself over on his frustrations and brood over strong drink. No resolution was ever reached. The issues always scabbed over, ripe for picking, bleeding, and oozing misery another time. Change the game. And then, what?

Spock seemed to think that my mother was predictable. I wasn't so sure about that, but I was willing to accept any suggestions he had at the moment. "So Spock, let's say I bring the fight right to her doorstep." He opened his mouth to ask a question about my choice of metaphor, and I continued before he could phrase the question. "Let's say I confront her tonight. Who's to say that she won't simply reverse our roles in this discussion? Make me the aggressor, while she retreats, makes me the bad guy here, the unreasonable one?" That was the role she played with _her_ mother, and it never solved anything, either.

"No one can say with complete surety what your mother will do tonight. However, if you wish things to change between the two of you, one of you must change the dynamic. You appear to be more capable of changing."

"I wish I had your confidence, Spock. I really wish I had your confidence right now."

"A life of logic does bring a peace few Humans enjoy."

Logic. Use a logical strategy of doing something unexpected to force a different outcome. I wondered just how far Spock's logic would take him once my mother started her routine. In the past, my mother had tested her Vulcan professor's logic to extremes, leading the poor man to wonder aloud once how many times an _ahn'wun_ could be wrapped around Nyofu's neck.

"Let's go. It's going to take a while to get there, since we have to take different routes to avoid being seen together. We'll meet at San Francisco Airport, International Terminal. Her carrier is Virgin Worldwide, so I guess we'll meet in the waiting area?"

"I shall see you there."


	6. Claiming baggage

A/N: Special shout out to my beta, Ashlee Elizabeth, for having the patience to read through my rough drafts, tell me if they make sense or not, and making great suggestions.

**Claiming Baggage**

San Francisco International Air and Spaceport was a huge place. During the years since interplanetary travel became possible, the facility had grown to include an entire terminal for transport to and from Earth. I was just interested in the International Terminal, so I headed there. Of course, Spock had arrived before I did, making the most efficient use of public transportation. I saw his beautiful angular face as he scanned the people departing from the latest flight, looking for an older version of the dark skinned woman he'd seen through the meld. I scanned for her, too, and began to worry when I didn't see her.

Not seeing Nyofu could mean several things. One: it could mean she'd missed her flight. That was unlikely. Since turning forty, she'd become extremely punctual. The only person I knew that was better at keeping time was Spock. And missing her flight would have meant further delay to the end of our fight. No way that was happening. Two: her flight could have been delayed. That was not the case, either. The call numbers of her flight were on the large board, along with the indication that it had arrived, on time. Three: she had left the area in search of me. Once I'd been accepted to Starfleet Academy, my mother had informed me that she'd see me in four years, when I returned home after graduation. When I'd asked why, she'd told me that she would never visit me because Nyofu the Great and Terrible feared the unpredictable forces known as the fault systems that occasionally shook the region. My mother was terrified of earthquakes, and she was convinced that one would occur the very moment she stepped off the flight. The threat of natural disaster had kept her in Kenya, far from me, and far from where she could meddle in my life at the Academy. Until now, at least. My last visit home had left enough unsettled between us that she'd felt it necessary to force herself to overcome her fears and speak to me on my own turf. So, Nyofu had flown to San Francisco. I knew there was no way her need to talk to me had made her bold enough to run out into the street looking for me. That left one other option, and I seriously hoped that wasn't the case. Not today.

Cautiously, I walked up to Spock. "Have you seen her?"

"No, Nyota, I was here as the transport arrived. I observed all departing passengers. None resembled your mother. I did inquire of her inclusion on the passenger list."

"And?"

"Most peculiar. The flight attendant's eyes widened, indicating a strong emotional response to your mother's name. He rubbed a large bruise on his forehead and said, and I quote, 'Heaven help you.' I fail to see how a supernatural entity would assist in locating your mother."

The fourth option. If Spock's description of the man's reaction was faithful, then the the fourth option was most likely in play. Forget about things boding well or not. We were now way up Shit's Creek, _sans_ paddles, _sans_ canoe. I looked at Spock's face as he waited for a comment. Okay. I decided to see if the genius could figure this one out and come up with a better outcome, because everything I knew about the situation already suggested, at best, a lot of sweet talking before we could leave the airport with my mother.

"Spock, you said my mother was predictable. Her flight has arrived, but she didn't disembark. When you asked about her, the person gave you information which suggested she'd arrived on the flight, as planned. Yet, she's not here waiting where we agreed to wait. What do you think happened?" He thought for a moment before responding. "Perhaps she proceeded to pick up her luggage. Or, the resolution of a luggage issue necessitated her departure from the waiting area."

Logical and definitely a better outcome.

"You could be right. Why don't I have them page her? You wait here, while I talk to someone at the desk."

He nodded while I went the short distance to talk with someone at the desk. My simple question unleashed a flurry of activity behind the desk. People moved quickly to place calls. Airport personnel, with various injuries, fell over themselves in their efforts to explain to me why my mother wasn't waiting patiently in a nice soft seat in the waiting area. All I could do was nod. And stare in disbelief. She'd really outdone herself this time. And in an international airport, no less. One thing they'd neglected to mention caught my attention.

"Was Ms. Uhura traveling alone?"

"That harpy? Who in their right mind would travel with her?"

"Her husband. He usually goes with her when she travels internationally."

"You mean there's someone even more insane that she is? Someone actually married her?" There was no need to get offended by the man's description of my mother and step-father. I'd heard worse. The man looked at me as if he was worried that Nyofu's behavior might be genetically inheritable. I guess I'd brought that one on myself by saying I was trying to locate my mother.

"Yes," I said simply. "A very big man. About six feet, eight inches tall. Very dark skinned. Has a beard, a mustache, lots of hair."

"She was alone."

"Thank you, Sir." I walked away calmly, hiding the dread I was feeling, as I felt the eyes of the staff burning holes into my back. See, nice young human woman genetically related to the weirdo. See, no psychotic fit.

I returned to Spock. I took a deep cleansing breath. This was not going to be easy to explain.

"She's alone. She traveled alone. Goodness Gracious, she's without her keeper."

"Her keeper?" Puzzled, he tilted his head slightly, as if the different angle would help things make more sense.

"My step-father. No one knows for sure how Khalil does it, but he keeps her from getting into trouble."

My uncles, and even my aunt, often joked that Khalil must have threatened to stop sleeping with my mother if she misbehaved. I had my own theory, and I shared it with Spock.

"He believes in her. And he makes her think about what she's doing before things get out of control. He usually travels with her for things like this. She hates traveling this far alone. She was nervous about coming to San Francisco because of the history of earthquakes. She was alone today, so there was no one to make her think about the consequences of her actions."

"Consequences?"

"My mother is still in the airport, Spock. You were right. There was a problem with her luggage, with something _in_ her luggage. She refused to turn it over to Customs. Her refusal led to security being called, twelve people being injured, and her being sedated so the officers and medical personnel could perform a body cavity search for the object in question."

Both of Spock's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Indeed..."

"Yes. According to the attendant at the desk, she found a place to hide the object. A body scan revealed where she'd hidden it. And Customs wanted it. Really bad."

"Nyota, few places in the human body offer concealment against a body scan."

"That's true, Spock, very few." I hadn't even seen her, and I was tired already. My voice was showing it.

"Within a human female, there are two options."

"Yes, Spock, that's true."

"And one would be extremely unlikely."

"Indeed, Spock. I doubt she would have time to prepare herself for that one." He was still thinking. Any second now, he would figure it out. And, he would get a sampling of why the word "logic" and the name "Nyofu" were never used in the same sentence by anyone who knew her well.

"Does this mean that your mother inserted the object into her..." Bingo!

"Yes, Spock, it does." I sighed, revealing just how tired I was. And the night was still a newborn. "I was told that right before she passed out from the sedatives, she said something along the lines of 'If there's enough room for a baby to fit through there, then why can't I store my personal property there, too!'"

"Your mother is...creative."

I started to wonder if there was a limit to how high Spock's eyebrows could go. He was really cute right now, trying to keep the shock off his face. One good thing about a lifetime of living with a person like my mother was that I had an automatic setting for handling the fallout from her antics. I took another deep breath as I felt my personal autopilot take over.

"Let's just go get her, and find out what she's being charged with. The sedatives should have worn off by now."

Uh-huh. Way up Shit's Creek. I wondered if the scenery would get any better as we got deeper into tonight's mess.


	7. Smuggler

**A/N: The language will start to get a bit coarse from this point on. Props to my beta, Ashlee Elizabeth, as always.  
**

**Smuggler**

The scenery didn't get any better as we walked deeper into the mess my mother had made. We followed generic security guard "A" down a maze of corridors. I kept my head high, my back straight, and a determination in my steps. I heard the click-clack-click-clack of my shoes on the tiled floor. _Click-clack-click-clack._ Keep moving. Don't think. Don't worry. Everything will be fine. _Click-clack-click-clack._ Keep your head up. _Click-clack-click-clack._ Narrow your eyes. Make them think twice about talking to you. Ignore the stares of the workers as you pass them. Channel Nyofu's bad assed crazy woman energy. Borrow her strength long enough to get her out of this_. Click-clack-click-clack._ The sound of my shoes made me conscious of the swing of my hips as I walked. Along with the way I felt my hair moving, it created a rhythm, one that made me think of the way my mother moved. Quiet as it was kept, there were things I admired about her. One of them was how she could coil all of her energy into one tight ball and create this illusion of utter cool in the middle of a storm. As if we were the ones doing something ridiculous and she were the normal one. I found myself hearing one of Khalil's poems about her, hiding somewhere within the rhythm of my hips, the sound of my shoes, and the movement of my hair.

Lithe brown dancer

Watch her sway

In the breeze

Hips moving left

Then right

Then left again

The pendulum swings

Hypnotized,

I watch

Have mercy on me.

You told me once

You were built

For speed,

Not comfort

Tell me, sweet dancer,

How fast can you drive?

Tell me, sweet dancer,

Could you survive the ride?

Don't keep me waiting,

Sweet dancer

Have mercy on me.

"_Is that a song?"_ Spock's mental question didn't startle me exactly, but it did bring me back to the present.

"_No, just a poem my step-father wrote about my mother once. I was only thirteen at the time, but I remember him sitting and watching her one day, watching every move she made as if his life depended on it. Then, he just started reciting what he was feeling, what he was thinking about her. Now that I think about it, I don't think either one of them was aware of what was happening to them at the time."_

"_What were they not aware of?"_

"_They were kind of like us, Spock. They were spending a lot of time together, growing closer, not really aware of where it was leading them until the moment was upon them. Or maybe Khalil was aware of it already. It's hard to say, since I didn't know him well back then."_

"_His words indicate great passion. He loved her."_

"_He still does, as only a quarter-Klingon can." _My mental laughter stopped short as I registered Spock's muted alarm at what I'd just said. I'd never told him about my step-father's genetic makeup, partly because I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. Relations between the Federation and the Empire were unpredictable, so keeping quiet about the hidden-in-plain-sight truth about Khalil's family always seemed like the best course of action. One could never tell when good Federation citizens would suddenly become suspicious about a neighbor they had known for years. They blended in well enough not to arouse suspicion most of the time. People in our area knew the truth but didn't care, since no trouble had ever come out of having them in the area. And the family had been there for about a hundred years. But how would outsiders react to knowing that there was a Klingon that didn't look like a Klingon, one that looked Human if you didn't look closely, right in their back yard? That was the reason for caution. "_There are things about my extended family that I need to tell you, but not now. When this is over, I promise, I'll tell you everything."_

"_As you wish." _I could feel a sense of unease from Spock that I wasn't accustomed to. I had hidden something vital from him, and he felt...slighted. Then again, it could have just been Starfleet trained reflexes kicking in and warning him to be suspicious of anything remotely connected to the Klingon Empire. Either way, he was now even more wary than he had been at the start of the evening, and his wariness now included me to some degree. For now, he would wait to hear my explanation. I hoped my secretiveness hadn't damaged our relationship.

Our steps brought us from the terminal we'd started in over to the Interplanetary one, where the facility had a secure area for anything out of the ordinary: unusual species, unfamiliar cargo, and Nyofu Uhura. Normally, she would have been held at similar facilities in the building we'd started in, but once she'd begun demanding, at the top of her lungs, to speak to someone who could contact _any_ representative of the Klingon home world, Qo'noS, or Starfleet Intelligence, the powers that be at the airport had panicked. Even the visiting xenoanthropologist who had alerted Customs, Dr. Twombly, was startled. Clearly, there was more going on here than either entity had expected. So, my mother was being held in one of their most secure cells until someone with the proper level of security clearance could be found to prove or refute her claims.

"When can I see Nyofu Uhura? I was told she was here." Very nervous-looking generic security guard "B" peered at me from the other side of his desk. I spoke with the air of someone used to being obeyed. I wasn't asking _if_ I could see her, I was demanding to know _when_ I could see her. I sounded exactly like my mother. He repeatedly looked from the vidscreen showing my mother's cell, to the silent Vulcan standing behind me, back to my determined face.

"Uh...are you from Starfleet?" Hmm. Interesting question. I was still a cadet, so I wasn't officially from Starfleet. Spock _was_ from Starfleet, but he wasn't here in an official capacity. Actually, his being here was starting to look like a potential complication, since after this was all over, the first question would be how he happened to be Johnny-on-the-spot when everything got a ticket to ride in the handbasket bound for Hell. I was family, though, and maybe that counted for something. I was beginning to have a feeling I knew more about what was going on than the officials did, but I kept my suspicions to myself. This was a delicate situation. I was also beginning to feel guilty again. There was way too much I hadn't shared with Spock about my family until today, all because I'd wanted to create an identity for myself at Starfleet devoid of being recognized as Nyofu's daughter. Now, I had to acknowledge the connection, and suffer any consequences that came along with it.

"I'm her daughter. I knew my mother was coming to San Francisco today for a visit. We had arranged to meet here. When I arrived, I discovered there had been trouble. I'm here to see that my mother hasn't been harmed, and that her rights haven't been violated." My voice carried confidence and command. My mother had often said, "If you can't blind them with science, baffle them with bullshit." This situation seemed somewhere in between. Bluff until I knew enough about the situation to decide what to do. The man behind the desk nodded, but kept his eyes on Spock.

"And him?"

"I am here as an observer. Ms. Uhura requested my presence."

It was the truth, although his comment didn't specify _which_ Ms. Uhura had requested his presence. I noted that; we might be able to use it to our advantage before this was over. I had asked Spock to come with me today because I'd felt it was about time for him and my mother to meet. I hadn't met his family yet, but they knew about me, and were looking forward to meeting me. During the course of my last break, my family discovered that I had a boyfriend, thanks to my mother's tirade at dinner. My uncles were looking forward to meeting a "Starfleet man," since they'd spent some time in Starfleet themselves. My grandparents were just pleased that I had one boyfriend, not two. My cousin gave a warning that this man had better not hurt me, but he said it with a smile. Khalil had smiled a bitter smile that only a parent can form, one that indicated acceptance and defeat at the same time. He'd said nothing, but remained thoughtful as he'd watched his wife, who was fuming. Of all of my family, only Makini had actually met Spock. She approved.

Apparently, Spock's simple comment made the man even more nervous. He quickly asked for an update on my mother's physical condition and requested that Dr. Twombly come to the desk immediately to make a formal statement. A door behind the security guard opened, and a man I had seen before entered. Dr. Twombly was about my mother's height, about twenty years older, making him around sixty, and he had a good tan from the amount of time he'd spent in Kenya and Tanzania. He was my mother's latest adviser while she worked on getting her ever-elusive doctorate. But what could have happened to make him accuse her of smuggling? He looked up from the PADD in his hands. He recognized me immediately, even though it had been some time since he'd seen me.

"Nyota, so good to see you again, even under these circumstances."

"Likewise, Dr. Twombly."

"Your mother told me that you'd decided to join Starfleet. How are your classes going?"

"Just fine, Dr. T. I graduate at the end of the semester. Dr. T, can you please tell me what happened? I thought my mom was one of your best students."

"As did I, Ms. Uhura, as did I. But there is no way what she's saying can be true. There is _no_ _way_ she acquired that artifact legally."

"Sir, what artifact?"

"A _jinaq_. Do you know what that is, young lady? I doubt your classes would cover such a non-military item." Dr. Twombly's tone had become patronizing, as he quickly considered and dismissed the notion that Starfleet took the time to make sure its members knew about more than just weaponry. Starfleet, however, took pains to make sure that cadets understood that the species they were interacting with were real people.

"I know what it is, Dr. Twombly. I've even seen it once or twice. What I don't understand is why you're so convinced she didn't obtain it legally." My mother was many things, but surprisingly, a liar wasn't one of them. Her way of viewing the world around her was skewed six ways to Sunday, but she never lied about her actions. In that way, she lived up to her name. And in this instance, she was right. If it was the same pendant I thought it was, then the owner, or a family member, had personally given it to her, possibly to bring to me.

Dr. Twombly's eyes had opened wide when I said I knew what a _jinaq_ was. Then they narrowed and he started to move towards me, much the same way a cobra unfurls its hood and tracks its target move for move before it strikes. Behind me, I could sense movement from Spock. He had moved up closer behind me. I couldn't feel much from him mentally, except that he was awfully aware of how close the professor was getting to me. Hyper-focused Spock cleared his throat, cutting through just enough of the building tension to turn the man's attention from me to himself.

"Permit me to interject, Dr. Twombly. Could you elaborate on why you believe Nyofu Uhura has committed an illegal act?"

Staring at Spock now as if he were completely dense and not asking a reasonable question, Dr. Twombly began his lecture. "A _jinaq_ is a type of jewelry given to a female Klingon when she's considered old enough to take a mate. We know very little about the daily lives of ordinary Klingons. The majority of our dealings have been with the Empire's soldiers. Nyofu had in her possession an object that even celebrated xenoanthropologists have never been able to obtain and study. In fact, the majority of Nyofu's study has been on Klingons. The Federation and the Klingon Empire are not friends. I have been wondering for some time now how she has been able to get her information. She refuses to explain. I had to go through the Vulcan database to verify some other information she's presented. When I asked her to identify her sources, she got unusually tight-lipped. Nyofu is not one to be quiet when she feels passionate about something. I tried to confirm her source once, a man named Koreth. I was surprised to discover that Starfleet Intelligence had records on this man. Those records, however, are classified. Something is not right. Objects like that one probably don't travel outside of a family. Passed down for generations, I'd imagine. Once Nyofu was 'parted' from the pendant, I had it scanned. It is at least three hundred years old. It's even more interesting because it is somewhat smaller than these objects have been described as being. Think of it, Nyota, a chance to study Klingon society and art. Nyofu would have had to have contact with someone with direct ties to Qo'noS, or a colony world in order to get something like that. If she's not involved in smuggling, then perhaps she's involved in some kind of espionage, and it was given to her as payment. Either way, something isn't right. And if everything was normal, she wouldn't have reacted that way."

If my mother were an ordinary person, then yes, her reaction was a bit extreme, and therefore, suspicious. If you knew my mother well, however, then her reaction, while over the top, was well within imaginable parameters. Someone tried to take away something that had meaning to my mother, something she valued. And this particular something was given to her by someone she cared deeply for, was something that represented a deep trust. Of course my mother would fight. It was just like Spock said, predictable. My mother was telling the truth, but proving it wouldn't be so easy. Not without getting help from someone with Starfleet security clearance. I did have access to someone with security clearance. But did he want to move from being an observer to being actively involved? I wasn't sure I had the right to ask him to stick his neck out like that, especially when it was very likely that my mother wouldn't be so thankful when she found out what he was to me. I had to talk to her first. Then, I had to talk to Spock.

"I need to see my mother. When can that be done?" I decided to ignore the professor for a while. I didn't like the way he was looking at me now. He knew I knew more than I was saying. He continued to enter data into the PADD he'd carried with him, probably thinking of how to explain his "grand discovery." Little did he realize that his discovery was about to blow up in his face.

The security guard looked uncomfortable again. None of his superiors had come to the office with further instructions. Finally, he decided. "It can't hurt to let you see her." He started to punch in a code to allow me access to her area.

"Commander Spock comes with me." I didn't think it was wise to just leave him out there.

Two pairs of human eyes registered shock. This was the first time since we'd arrived that an actual rank had been disclosed. The professor recovered first.

"You're from Starfleet? I thought she was just ranting when she requested someone." Dr. Twombly was very interested in Spock. He looked him over, thinking. "A Vulcan in Starfleet…Are you the Ambassador's son?"

"I am."

"This is getting more interesting by the moment. I'll wait here."

The guard allowed us to pass through a final narrow corridor. We entered an enclosure and there was my mother's cell. She looked up at the sounds of our footsteps. She recognized me, but she looked disappointed at seeing who I had with me. She spoke, in Standard, her East African accent much thicker than it normally was. She was tired, too, and her puffy lip didn't make speaking any easier.

"I asked them to send me someone from Starfleet. They send me a student and someone from the Vulcan Embassy. So what are you two supposed to do? Are you going to translate for him while he patiently asks me stupid questions?"

So much for a civil greeting and introduction. We were going into this head first.

"I am not from the Vulcan Embassy, and I do not need a translator, Ms. Uhura." Spock took the point in talking with my mother.

"So, you're from some other bureaucratic entity, and you're going to ask me stupid questions in Standard. Wonderful."

"Ms. Uhura, I have no intention of asking you inane questions. I was one of your daughter's instructors at the Academy. I accompanied your daughter to retrieve you from the airport as a form of 'moral support.'"

"And why do her morals need supporting? Unless you're somehow in league with the miscreant who's been corrupting them lately? Why isn't he here morally supporting you, Nyota?"

O-kay! So my mom was very ready to fight. I wasn't even about to point out to my mother that the other person she was itching to throw down with was right in front of her. First things first: get Nyofu out of the cell, get the charges dropped, and get to a more private place where she and I could fight.

"Mama, we can fight later. Right now, we need to get you out of here."

She seemed to have forgotten where she was for a moment. Nyofu looked around her cell, twisting her head first to the right, then to left, giving Spock his first good look at her. I knew what he was doing. He was speculating whether she represented what I'd look like in twenty years. Unfortunately, she noticed.

"Is there something wrong, Vulcan?"

"The resemblance between the two of you is remarkable."

"Basic science, not remarkable. She's my daughter, remember?" My mother waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "What did Dr. Asshole tell you about why I'm in here?"

"Dr. Twombly informed us that you were in possession of what he suspected was a Klingon artifact."

My mother's mouth twisted and she sucked her teeth loudly. "Artifact my left tit. It's a piece of jewelry belonging to my husband's family. I was bullied into bringing it to San Francisco to give to Nyota."

"Bullied?" I suspected this was her interpretation of events, and not what had actually happened.

"Koreth, Keth, and Khalil agreed that it was time to pass the _jinaq_ on to the female of the family who was of age to take a mate." My mother looked at the floor, but continued speaking. "Arguing with a quarter-blood Klingon is not wise, so I gave up when Koreth himself, a full blood, asked me to give you what would have gone to his daughter, had she lived long enough."

That explained everything. She was bringing it to me, as I'd suspected. The men of my extended family were forcing her to acknowledge me as an adult. I had to send them all my thanks, once we got it back. And just how were we going to do that?


	8. Another Nice Mess

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Knowing the details of Star Trek:Enterprise, episodes "Affliction" and "Divergence" would help in reading and enjoying this part. If anyone is interested, you can watch them online at startrek dot com (Season 4, #14 & #15). Extra special thanks to Aashlee Elizabeth for her advice.

**Chapter Eight: Another Nice Mess**

I stared at my mother, and my mother stared at me. From opposite sides of the force field that separated us, we mirrored each other: arms folded across breasts, weight shifted onto one hip, her right, my left. Even her locks were gathered into a ponytail with rivulets running down her back, much the same way mine was.

"Well, Mama, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into," I mumbled under my breath. My bravado was starting to wear off, only to be replaced by annoyance.

"What was that?"

"I said you've managed to get yourself in trouble again, maybe managed to get me in trouble too, this time."

"So this is my fault? I wouldn't even _be_ here if it wasn't for your skinny hot to trot ass."

I tried my best not to flinch, and I almost made it. Me? Hot to trot? Me promiscuous? Spock was the only lover I'd ever had. My first and my last, since the bond between us would be made permanent after graduation. Our physical relationship was something we took very seriously, something sacred. She saw his marks, and now suddenly I'm the Whore of Babylon? How the hell could she even think something like that when she knew me better than that? The feeling of annoyance was quickly degrading into a very Nyofu-esque anger, only mine wasn't directed at the world in general. I decided to take the high road and ignore her insult. No need to fight _here_. We'd have plenty of time to insult each other later. "How are you planning to get out of this?"

"If that meddlesome man would have just minded his business, and not been investigating me behind my back..." Nyofu's eyes narrowed as she spotted a camera. "Are you still investigating me, Eric?" she said directly to the camera.

"Am I correct in assuming that Eric and Dr. Twombly are one and the same?" Spock asked, reminding my mother that he was in the room.

"You are correct, Vulcan," my mother answered without taking her eyes off the camera. "Dr. Eric Twombly, professor of xenoanthropology and archeology at the University of Nairobi, my doctoral advisor, and ignoramus extraordinaire." She lifted her eyes from the camera, and zoomed in on Spock, giving him her full attention. "I was his teaching assistant before I became his primary research assistant. I keep track of his findings, edit them into readable papers, and make apologies to people he's offended with his condescending attitude. In return, I have access to all of the University's databases for my own research." My mother's relationship with Dr. Twombly was the exact opposite of how things had been between Spock and me when we worked closely together. Makini, who also attended the same University, had told me once that the two were deliberately paired together by the head of their department, as a way to keep other students and faculty from having to deal with either one.

Still leaning her weight on one hip, my mother was thinking. I could see it in her eyes. At times, that was good because it meant she was aware of the full extent of whatever she was facing. Right now, she was looking at Spock as though she'd just thought of something, and I couldn't figure out what was on her mind. That kind of stare from her never meant something good was about to happen.

"Vulcan, you said you were my daughter's instructor at the Academy. How many Vulcan instructors are there at the Academy?"

"There is only myself, Ms. Uhura."

"Then you must be Commander Spock. I have heard of you." My mother's voice held a bit of mischief. Oh no. She was moving from psycho mode to shit-starter mode. Was she seriously going to try to embarrass me, right now, from inside a cell?

"That would be correct, Ms. Uhura."

My mother came even closer to the force field keeping her inside the cell, still staring hard at Spock, but now looking him over as if he was an object she was thinking of buying. "So, _this_ is the Commander Spock you talked about non-stop when you were in his class. I agree with you, Nyota, he is easy on the eyes."

I'd forgotten there was a time when I'd babbled like an idiot about my instructor. My mother, of course, had not only remembered, but she'd chosen an inappropriate moment to remind me. I felt my cheeks turn red, and I dropped my head. This was obviously payback for mentioning that she'd gotten herself in trouble again.

"'Easy on the eyes'? I am not familiar with this particular idiom." Spock looked at me for an explanation, but there seemed to be something else hiding in his expression. What?

"It means, Commander, that I once told my mother I thought you were very handsome." I sighed loud and long. "Mama, you can embarrass me later. Right now, we need to think of how to end this situation."

My mother turned her back to us and went to sit on the bunk in her cell, satisfied that her comments had stung. While my mother's back was turned, Spock moved closer to me and brushed his fingers across mine. I expected to feel his amusement at what he'd just learned, but instead I felt disappointment. I looked at him quickly, letting him see the question in my eyes. Why?

"_You are not engaging her. You are allowing her to cause you to feel discomfort. It is obvious she does not wish to wait to find a more private place for your inevitable disagreement. Engage her."_

My mind stung from his mental retort. Not enough to make me feel hurt, but enough to snap me out of feeling embarrassed and wanting to hide. He wasn't trying to be harsh, but he was right. While tonight's primary goal had changed slightly in light of my mother's troubles, tonight was still about facing my mother, making her treat me with respect like an adult, and introducing her to the man who would soon become her son-in-law. I took a centering breath, and nodded my head slightly, acknowledged his sage advice.

_"Thank you. I needed that. It's not easy to change what you've always done."_

_ "I am sure it is not. Say what you are thinking. Do not concern yourself with your current location. And remember, I am here. You are not alone against her."_ His eyes held softness now. I could tell he would have run a finger down the side of my face if he could have. Then a corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly. _"You told your mother you found me attractive?"_

_"I have no comment on the matter,"_ I thought back quickly and started smiling. I had always wanted to throw one of his lines back at him.

_"There are ways to make you comment on the matter, Nyota. You will answer my question at a more appropriate time."_ Spock's eyes had darkened, and this time when he brushed his fingers across mine, I felt amusement and heat. If his intention was to make me feel better, he had definitely succeeded. I brought my attention back to the problem at hand.

The only way to get my mother out of this place was to convince Dr. Twombly that she wasn't involved in any criminal activity. Doing so, however, meant exposing a few interesting bits of Starfleet and Klingon history. I needed to talk to Spock. Problem was, I knew our actions were being recorded, and there was no time and no privacy for another meld.

"Commander, a word. Please?"

"Cadet?"

"I need to share information with you, family secrets you could say. I need to share my secrets with someone at the Academy who knows me well. I've never shared these things with anyone, but their discovery could cause more scenes like this one." Although my voice was controlled, I was anything but. Would he understand why I didn't tell him before?

"Nyota!" My mother's sharp tone cut into the silence that had developed while I was thinking. "Do you know what you're doing?" My mother's tone was low, warning, almost threatening.

"Commander Spock can be trusted, Mama." I looked at Spock. Although he was wearing his very public persona of the Commander, I could see the man I loved underneath. I trusted him, and it was time for me to trust him with this.

"This isn't just family secrets you're about to spill. Your precious Starfleet may question your loyalties, Nyota, once he goes back and tells them how you're connected to everything. Are you prepared for that?"

"Starfleet already knows its own secrets. They accepted me into the Academy, so they must be okay with it." They knew their own secrets, and whatever they didn't know, I was pretty sure one of my uncles would have told them. They both were Starfleet security officers.

"Well, I don't care if this Commander Spock is a chaperone entrusted with keeping a sacrificial virgin pure on the threat of his life, I don't know him, and I don't trust him."

"We can trust him, Mama."

"And since the trouble at Donatu V, I'm not sure everyone would agree with your innocent assessment. I'd rather not tell him. But, if telling him can help me get out of here and get my property back, I'll consider it."

Spock spoke up, offering his assistance, "I do not know if I might be of assistance in this matter. However, I _do_ know that I cannot assist you without more information."

"You would help? Why?"

"Your daughter has been invaluable to me as a teaching assistant. I have come to value her as a friend. As I said previously, I accompanied her tonight as a form of moral support. It appears to me that attempting to assist the two of you now would also constitute a form of support."

Nyofu narrowed her eyes at Spock yet again, as if something was odd about what he'd said, and sulked for a few more moments before deciding. "Tell him," she sighed. "But beware. These walls have eyes and ears." Nyofu's eyes narrowed as she spotted yet another camera. "Starfleet already knows its secrets. But there are things that idiotic xenoanthropologists don't need to know," she said directly to the camera. No one responded from the outside.

"Commander," I began, "how much do you know about the missions of Admiral Archer's Enterprise?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Cadet, details of the missions of Archer and his crew are readily accessible, save for information that was classified."

I nodded. "Are you familiar with events involving the starships Enterprise and Columbia, in Klingon space, in the year 2154? The information I'm speaking of might be classified at Starfleet Medical, and is definitely classified at Starfleet Intelligence." I was hoping I had said enough to set his mind in the right direction. I watched his eyes lose some of their focus as he started thinking about what I was telling him, and not telling him.

"Cadet, would the information you speak of also appear in reports submitted to the Vulcan High Command by Archer's First Officer, T'Pol?"

"It should. Between the four sets of records, there should be enough information to get my mother out of here. Unfortunately, I'm just a student. I don't have the clout necessary to access those records. I could tell you everything I know, but without proof, I'll sound just as suspicious as Nyofu does." I looked at my mother while I spoke.

My mother, meanwhile, had begun to curse at the security camera, very loudly. While I normally would have been embarrassed by her ability to curse creatively in Standard, Swahili, and Klingon, all in the same sentence, this time, it was a useful distraction. Even better was the fact that Dr. Twombly's voice was finally heard over the speaker, engaging my mother in a vocal free-for-all. Attention was focused on my mother, not me. There was no way the cameras could pick up a mental conversation. I didn't think had the right to ask, but I had to.

"_Spock, is there any way you could check the records and find proof that nothing illegal is going on?" _

"_I believe I have the clearance necessary to access records at both the Vulcan Embassy and at least two of the departments at Starfleet you mentioned. My doing so, however, will not go unnoticed by someone. This issue may not go away quietly. Before I consider doing as you have asked, I must know. What is the grave secret you and your mother do not wish to share?"_

In for a penny, in for a pound. _"Koreth not only is a Klingon, he's one that lives right over the hill from my family's property. His son and grandson are both Human-Klingon hybrids, but none of them look like Klingons. All three look Human, Spock, very Human. The people in my area know they aren't fully Human, but they don't know the details. They aren't the only ones. Koreth told me that millions of his people were afflicted like him. Think of it, Spock. There are millions of Klingons, definitely some in the military, able to pass for Human like he can."_

"_And Starfleet is fully aware of this?"_

"_Admiral Archer was involved in it. I've even met him once, when he came personally to see how Koreth and his family were doing. Archer was instrumental in getting Koreth some kind of legal status on Earth. Starfleet Medical was allowed to further research what went wrong out there, to make sure something like that didn't happen here. Then, they got a shock when Koreth's Human wife gave birth to a healthy hybrid son. Koreth and Subira always said they were not actively trying to have a child. But, they were not trying not to have a child either, since they both believed it was impossible. As far as everyone knew back then, Klingons and Humans were not supposed to be able to breed without medical intervention. Starfleet Medical figured Koreth's genetic mutations allowed it to happen naturally, and they started watching his son, Keth, very closely. Keth took a Human woman named Uzuri as his mate, and their son's birth proved that hybrids are not necessarily sterile. Their son, Khalil, is my step-father. Starfleet Intelligence was involved in things, too, from the beginning, and they keep tabs on the family. They're very nervous that someday, the Federation will meet up with others like Koreth. If the Klingons were like the Romulans, and into sneaking up on their enemies...there could be trouble. For that matter, if people outside my area knew the truth and the level of Starfleet involvement, there could be trouble."_

"_Nyota, your accounting of events have allowed me to theorize why you were not forthcoming with this earlier. However, you have left me with an intriguing puzzle that must be solved. How did this Koreth that you have spoken of come to appear Human, and more importantly, how was he able to pass the characteristics on to his descendants?"_

"_The Augment Virus. Check the records, Spock."_

Our conversation was interrupted by my mother's newest remark to Dr. Twombly.

"Did you have the container I was carrying the _jinaq_ in analyzed, too? Did you find out what else I do with Klingons?"

The door to the corridor opened, Dr. Twombly burst into the room, and planted himself in the area in front of the cell. Spock used the researcher's entry as an opportunity to leave the room. He glanced back once, leaving me with the touch of thoughts.

"_Nyota, I fear I cannot refuse you anything you ask of me. I will help you. I must admit, I am intensely curious to learn the details of the fascinating tale you have begun to tell. I agree with your mother, however. I am not yet convinced there is no threat to Federation security."_

He left quietly in search of a computer terminal. He would help. I just hoped he wouldn't regret it.

Meanwhile, the argument between Dr. T and my mother grew in intensity, now that they were face to face. Eric Twombly and Nyofu seemed to have forgotten that I was in the room.

"I knew it! I knew it! You _are_ guilty of consorting with Klingons!"

"Consorting? Such archaic language. I only 'consort' with one," Nyofu sneered. "Since when does that equate with an entire race?"

He turned purple with rage as he hit his fists against the force field. "Was it your studies? Did your quest for knowledge and discovery drive you to such extremes? Did this Klingon you talk to offer you access to their databases in exchange for your body?"

"And you say I'm crazy? It's not my fault that I'm better at getting people to trust me and talk to me than you are. So, just because I've managed to get very detailed information on Klingon family life, I'm suddenly being seduced by rogue warriors, or I've become a spy? I told you what I could. My informant has his reasons for not wanting to be positively identified. Even your own snooping has hit electronic roadblocks. Let it go, Eric."

"Does Khalil know that you've betrayed him?"

As if things hadn't been weird enough, my mother's angry scowl suddenly turned into a smile. Not good. I knew that look, too. She was about to give Dr. Twombly a major mind fucking.

"Khalil knows exactly who I'm sleeping with. He even watches," my mother purred sweetly.

I wasn't sure how much more of this argument I could take. I knew just how warped a sense of humor my mother had. Leave it to her, and she'd create an entire scenario for Dr. Twombly where her literature nerd husband sat transfixed as his wife received the screwing of a lifetime. What the professor didn't know was that there was a mirror on the wall opposite my parents' bed. The only Klingon Khalil would have been watching screw his wife was himself. I so did not need that image in my head. In an attempt to clear it, I checked on Spock's progress.

"_Spock, have you found anything?"_

"_I have. I was correct that accessing the information would not go unnoticed. Accessing those particular files tripped very sophisticated flags that were in place. I doubt that I, myself, could have designed better ones. I made the immediate acquaintance of an individual who called himself The Judge, from Starfleet Intelligence. At the present time, he has given me permission to share the information I accessed with Dr. Twombly. The item in question is listed among the items Koreth arrived with when he came to Earth. It is also known that Khalil Kiteme is Koreth's grandson and Nyofu's husband. The Judge believes if Dr. Twombly is confronted with the facts, he will desist in his attempts to have Nyofu Uhura arrested. If not, The Judge has authorized me to inform Dr. Twombly that he will make a personal visit to the University and 'convince' him to desist. Your mother will be released within the hour and the charges will be dropped. I am currently on my way back to your location."_

"_The Judge? You found my uncle?"_

"_Your uncle? The Judge did not indicate a familial relationship with either you or Ms. Uhura."_

"_Spock, my uncle's name means judge. It means __he's fair and tries to do what's right, impartially. So, my mother was right. He is SI now. Please hurry back, Spock. I can't take these two anymore."_

Conversation over, I waded back into the fray. "Mama, that's enough. You just made me flash on things I'd rather not think about."

"Awww. What's the matter? Considering the way you looked the last time I saw you, I can't imagine why you'd be upset at the thought of a little carnal activity."

Whatever Dr. Twombly was thinking to say, he paused, sensing that there was something far more interesting brewing. Spock entered the room before I had a chance to respond to my mother's comment.

"Oh, there you are, Vulcan. I thought you'd been driven out of the room by the illogical behavior of the Humans."

Eyebrow in the air at why he was suddenly being addressed by my mother, Spock took a moment to respond. "I have witnessed Humans arguing before. Although vociferous, there was nothing violent about your discussion. Cadet Uhura was in no danger of being harmed. Therefore, I left in search of a computer to research the events your daughter mentioned."

"I see. I was also wondering why you left the room." Dr. Twombly also calmed down considerably.

"And what did you find, Vulcan? Pardon me. Old habits die hard. What did you find Commander Spock?" My mother was trying to be polite.

"Cadet Uhura was accurate in suggesting which records to research. I am revealing the results of my investigations with the permission of Starfleet, Starfleet Intelligence, and Starfleet Medical. T'Pol's reports to the Vulcan High Command concurred with those of Starfleet. Starfleet Intelligence requested that I inform you, Dr. Twombly, that if you make any attempt to publish what you learn here today, or if you begin to harass Koreth and his family members for corroborating information, you will be contacted by someone from their offices."

Dr. Twombly visibly paled. "They know? I, I had assumed that whatever Nyofu was up to, it was all being done in back alleys and bedrooms. Starfleet knows what she's doing?"

"You jealous pervert. Maybe I'm not doing who and what you think I'm doing." My mother's voice had become a whisper.

Spock cleared his throat, ending the professor's babbling and my mother's harsh whispers, but not removing the worried look from the professor's face. "I will share a highly condensed version of my investigation with you. In 2154, there was a viral outbreak in Klingon territory. The virus was highly contagious, infecting millions of Klingons. An Earth Starfleet doctor was coerced into assisting in the containment of the virus. Once the doctor began analyzing the virus, he discovered that it contained Human Augment DNA. Klingon scientists had acquired samples of Human Augment DNA and were attempting to create Augments of their own. An unfortunate accident occurred in their clandestine research, and it created an airborne virus. In the first stage of the virus, infected Klingons lost their cranial ridges and took on a more Human appearance. Working under duress with the assistance of a Klingon scientist, the doctor was able to arrest the virus in its first stage, stopping the plague, but insuring that no Augments would be created. Since the virus was mutagenic, the changes in appearance were inherited by the offspring of survivors. Ms. Uhura, your source for your information, a man named Koreth, is a survivor of that plague. Is he also the one who gave you the _jinaq _to bring to Cadet Uhura?"

"He is. The piece belonged to his daughter. She was a victim, along with the rest of his family." My mother said simply from where she'd been sitting on her bunk.

"But if this, this Koreth, is a survivor, he must be well over one hundred by now. Is he still alive? I mean, of course he's still alive if he gave you the jewelry, but is he still…do you think he's still clear enough in the head to relate his experiences?" The professor, suddenly smelling a whole new area of study, wanted to know everything. He looked downright predatory as he began to move away from understanding that there would be no publication of his discovery of the _jinaq_, to moving towards understanding that there was an entire subspecies of Klingons that he could study, if he could convince them to talk to him instead of rip his head off.

"He was fine when I left Kenya. He's at least one hundred and thirty-four years old. I'm not sure, since I'm not exactly sure on how their dating system compares to ours. Anyway, they age differently from us. He's still very aware, bad-tempered, and much stronger than you are."

"Nyofu, my dear, you must let me talk to him. I understand now, you were protecting family. How noble, how positively noble." It was amazing how quickly the professor recovered. If he could have put an arm around my mother's shoulder, and cooed in her ear, he would have. The look on his face, as he all but caressed the force field, was damn near sexual. Was there such a thing as an academic hard-on? A lust for knowledge so strong it was practically visible?

Nyofu rolled her eyes at her professor and answered. "Eric, they consider what happened one of their biggest embarrassments. They don't discuss it, and those affected just deal with it. I suppose the traits will eventually breed themselves out, but that will take a few generations. I am not disturbing Koreth just so you can bug him to death, nor am I going to protect you if he decides he doesn't like you and tries to sling you across a room. "

"Nyofu, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. You understand how things got so out of hand, don't you? I'll make sure the charges are dropped immediately. Commander, you can let them know at Starfleet that I won't try to publish anything you've shared with me today. No, without positive proof, I'll sound like an idiot. I know Nyofu's husband personally, and I never would have guessed he wasn't fully Human. This is incredible. Simply incredible." My mother just nodded. Dr. Twombly left the room to start explaining his "mistake" so my mother could be released. No need to completely antagonize your potential resource.

"Idiot, you've met my husband, you don't know him personally," my mother said quietly as the door hissed shut behind Dr. Twombly. "That man is such a pain in the ass. He owes me big time for this one: a raise, days off, more lab time. He owes me. Now, I have a question for you, Commander," Nyofu said, her eyes aimed right at Spock's.

"Please proceed with your question, Ms. Uhura."

"Is my daughter your favorite student at the Academy?"

"Having a favorite student implies that I treat her differently from other students. I have never done so. Why do you ask?"

"When you two entered the room, you indicated you two were friends. Dr. Twombly's been my professor for years, and I even work closely with that lunatic. There's no way in hell I'd ever consider him my friend. You indicated a concern for Nyota's welfare, but not mine and Dr. Twombly's. And then there's the moral support, even extended to me, but most definitely for her benefit. You went nosing around in Starfleet's places where the sun doesn't shine. I seriously doubt you would go so far for any and every student. I was teasing my daughter earlier about the crush she had on you, but now I'm wondering if you have a preference for her of some kind."


	9. It Begins

A/N: Sorry this hasn't been updated in so long. Many thanks to Aashlee Elizabeth for suffering through this chapter with me.

**Chapter Nine: It Begins**

My mother waited for an answer to her question.

"As I indicated previously, Cadet Uhura and I worked very closely together when she was my assistant. I consider her a valued friend. Such consideration includes a concern for her welfare, both physical and mental. I suppose one could examine our history and construe a preference of some sort." Spock answered my mother as if she was asking about the weather, and not asking a question that carried other implications.

Nyofu nodded understanding, but she continued to look at Spock. My mother opened her mouth to say something, but she paused as the force field keeping her confined first glowed, and then disappeared. "So, they're finally letting me out of here," she said quietly, looking surprised. "I suppose I should get out of this cage before someone finds a reason to change his or her mind." My mother took advantage of the newly opened barrier by stepping across it and tasting freedom for the first time in hours. Once outside, my mother resumed watching the commander as she tried to figure out exactly what Spock was to me. I knew that look, too. She wasn't buying his explanation.

"You, Commander, gave me a half-assed answer that says 'yes' and 'no' at the same time, spoken in that annoyingly precise way only a Vulcan can deliver." She sighed heavily, suggesting that Spock's answer was just the beginning of a long procedure she wasn't looking forward to. "Can't Vulcans _ever_ give a straight answer to a question? Never mind. Don't answer that. Wouldn't want to spend an entire hour debating what I meant by giving a straight answer." My mother's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"I believe I _did_ answer your question, Ms. Uhura." It was just one word, but Spock's slight inflection on the word 'did' made me pay more attention to him. His voice, although quiet, had taken on a bit of an edge. He definitely didn't like Nyofu stating that he was incapable of giving direct answers.

"First, I'd rather be called Ms. Kiteme. It's about time I got used to using it formally. From this point on, _she_ is Ms. Uhura." My mother pointed in my direction, shocking the hell out of me.

"As you wish, Ms. Kiteme," I watched as Spock nodded at my mother in acceptance of her new title.

My mother had always made a big deal out of keeping as much of her original identity as possible after she and Khalil got married. She'd told him there were things she had to accomplish on her own first, before she could fully accept an identity as his wife. Getting her doctorate had been one of those things. But now, here she was, not only formally discarding the name she'd once planned to distinguish herself under, but also passing the Uhura torch on to me. I was now _Ms. Uhura_, not "the girl." It didn't feel like a victory, though, and knowing my mother, it was part of something larger. I came out of my thoughts just in time to hear the other shoe dropping.

"Second, you did _not_ answer my question, Commander. And you did that on purpose. Let me rephrase my question. In fact, let me make my meaning clear enough for even a highly intelligent, but literal minded, Vulcan to unequivocally understand." My mother sometimes spoke with her hands and body as much as she did her mouth. Her hands were speaking as if Spock was slow witted and he needed them as a guide to follow her instructions. "If you had to choose between, ummm, having dental surgery using nineteenth century techniques, or spending time discussing interpretations of any literary work of your choice with my daughter, which would you prefer?"

Spock raised an eyebrow at my mother's ridiculous choices. In addition to learning the languages spoken on Federation and non-Federation worlds, I was also learning how to interpret Spock's eyebrows. This particular raising suggested that he was wondering if my mother had perhaps been hit in the head by one of the security people earlier in the afternoon a little harder than anyone realized.

"I cannot conceive of a situation that would require me to contemplate such a choice, Ms. Kiteme. If the choice had been yours to make, which one would you prefer?" He stood straight and tall over a small bench opposite the now-empty cell where my mother had settled herself after she'd exited it, moving only his neck and eyes to stare down at her as he spoke. I'd seen that look unnerve even the beefiest-looking cadets back at the Academy. He didn't like my mother's assertion that he was deliberately avoiding answering her question. He didn't like her condescending tone. His tone suggested that he was…feeling annoyed. I could feel it slipping through the link between us. Not much was there, but the fact that it was there at all was a bad sign. It had to be a bad sign because I'd never known him to get annoyed at anyone. But then again, there had probably been enough things going on today to annoy even Spock. He'd discovered I'd hidden his existence from my family, that I'd hidden important truths about my family from him, and possibly exposed our relationship to a member of Starfleet Intelligence who just happened to be a male family member, someone very likely to want to investigate further. In fact, Spock had closed off the majority of the link as soon as my mother had accused him of deliberately avoiding her question. Spock had seemed so calm all afternoon. Had I missed his agitation because I had been so focused on my own?

My mother, long used to taller, pissed off people staring down at her, was completely unmoved by his stare. She returned his stare with an equally powerful one of her own. If people still wore eyeglasses for the astigmatism and nearsightedness my mother had been born with, but had corrected at an early age, she would have been intensely glaring over hers at Spock. "Now, I have a different question for you, Commander Spock. If you had to choose, would you prefer spending time pondering the discovery of a new language alone, or would you prefer spending time discussing that new language with my daughter?" My mother's body language now conveyed that she was speaking to someone she considered an equal, or at least competent enough to answer the question on the floor.

Spock relaxed somewhat, just a tiny opening of the fist that his mind had seemed to become when my mother started questioning him. Since this question did require actual thought, it didn't seem to bother him as much. My mother's tone was even this time, very matter of fact. Did he realize that she was varying her tone and body language on purpose, trying to goad him into giving her the answers she wanted? I wasn't sure if he did. I had warned Spock that Nyofu would try something tonight. I just hadn't expected her to try before we had eaten dinner.

"Although having adequate time alone to explore the nuances of anything which was previously undiscovered would provide satisfaction, being able to explore a discovery of such magnitude with another colleague, particularly with one who has an intense interest in the subject area, would provide a more enriching experience. I would choose discussing the new language with your daughter, Ms. Kiteme."

My mother nodded her head without taking her eyes off Spock. With all the nodding, she was starting to remind me of one of those old-fashioned bobble head dolls I'd seen in toy museums. But the nodding meant that she was thinking. She looked over at me, eyes still narrowed, carefully watching me for clues.

For my part, I was still a bit too angry at her for her earlier comment about carnal activity to worry much about how he'd answer any of the questions I knew she'd get around to eventually. Why would she think what happened between me and Spock when were alone was simply carnal activity, something meaningless? For that matter, why did she always have to reduce something beautiful to something dirty whenever she spoke to _me_ about it? My face must have shown something because she picked up on it.

"Out with it, Nyota. What's bothering you _this_ time?"

I took a quick glance at Spock, who gave a fractional nod. Engage her. Okay. "I'm annoyed because whenever you talk to me about anything sexual, you always act as if it's no big deal. To hear you tell it, it's just something hot and nasty, or just something biological and of little consequence."

"Oh, you're still annoyed by what I said earlier? Are you sure you want to discuss my views on the birds and the bees in front of your 'concerned' instructor?" She crooked her fingers to form quotes as she said the word "concerned." "You usually get upset if I bring up anything sexual in front of your friends."

"As we've both told you, he's my friend. If he doesn't hear it now, he'll end up hearing about it later."

Nyofu put up her hands in surrender. "Yes. Yes. You'll tell your precious BFF about our conversation when you get back to the Academy, looking for sympathy and a shoulder to cry on when you tell all about how you've survived yet another encounter with big bad Nyofu, the world's worst mother. I suppose he might as well hear everything now, first hand. It would certainly allow him to form his own opinions about what happened, rather than leave him at your tender manipulative mercies. You have a way with words, Daughter. You have a gift for spinning a tale so that you're the victim, and the rest of the world is against you, especially me. That, I believe, is something you get from your biological father. He was good at that, too."

I stared at my mother. It was rare that she mentioned my biological father at all. The few times she did, it was usually to point out a negative quality she'd discovered in my personality. This was the first time she'd ever made this particular complaint, and it made me wonder how often people I shared my thoughts about her with went back and told her what I'd said.

"What does _he_ have to do with this? This is about you and me," I challenged. I wasn't going to let her get away from answering my question by twisting it into something else.

"There would be no 'you and me' if it wasn't for him. And you asked me about my views on sex. You've been downloading and reading too many romance novels if you seriously think that every sex act is something spiritual and perfect. Sometimes it _is_ something hot and nasty. Even with someone you love dearly, it can sometimes be so wicked, that afterwards, you can hardly believe you did what you did. Other times, it _is_ something of little consequence. Something you do, and then wonder why the hell you did it. Like what happened with your father. "

"I always thought he was your boyfriend, and you two broke up because you were sleeping around. That's why he was convinced I wasn't his child." My mother was careless. My mother thought only about herself. My mother threw away a chance to be a freighter captain's wife, with a comfortable, secure life, because she couldn't control herself. It was what my grandmother had told me.

"And this is why I keep telling you to stop asking other people about my life and to ask me! He was _not_ my boyfriend. Goodness. There was no kind of commitment between us at all. It was a summer thing. Something you know won't last, don't want to last, and really wouldn't have a clue how to make last. Attraction can be that simple, Nyota. Sex can be that meaningless. I was someone for him to snuggle up with while he was taking classes. And he was supposed to be my way to forget that I was finally legal and very much alone. He just happened to be the one I got involved with. Having sex with someone doesn't automatically mean anything. The act is only as deep as the participants make it." My mother kept darting her eyes between Spock and me while she spoke. She seemed to be waiting for something.

I didn't know what to say. My aunt's report about the whole thing between my mother and my biological father had told me how my mother had felt about his reaction to her pregnancy. My mother's anger at him had never made sense to me though, since my grandmother had always told me my father's abandonment was my mother's fault. How could she get mad at someone for not believing her, if her behavior was the reason she wasn't believed? But listening to my mother now made me start to think differently about my aunt's words. It made sense now. A large part of the reason why I'd never had a boyfriend before Spock was because I'd wanted to avoid being compared to my mother. I didn't want to be the girl everyone whispered about, or pointed at. If one of the tenants I had based my definitions of love and sexuality wasn't the definitive truth, then what else might not be a fact?

The door chose that moment to hiss open, and Dr. Twombly entered the room with an armful of things I supposed belonged to my mother. He placed them down on the bench near her, moving just out of her reach as soon as he'd placed them. She glared at him, and began searching to make sure all of her things were there.

"They tell me you're free to go, Nyofu." Dr. Twombly was watching my mother, his curiosity naked on his face. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time, and I guess in some way, it was. He'd been working very closely with my mother for years, but today he'd discovered there were things he'd never known about her.

"Where is it, Eric?" She held out her hand.

"After so many years together, you still don't trust me?"

"After so many years together, I know you. Give it to me. Now"

With great solemnity, Dr. Twombly reached into his pocket and retrieved the _jinaq_ that had started this mess. He stared at it for what seemed like a long time before he handed it to my mother. My mother accepted the piece of jewelry, also staring at it.

"Now, Eric, it's time to say good-bye. You have a conference in the morning which you need to finish preparing for, and I have other business to attend to."

"Are you sure I can't stay with you? Record this momentous occasion for you, perhaps?" He seemed hopeful he'd find out something he could document if he hung around.

My mother looked at him. She laughed, but the sound wasn't a happy one. "No, Eric, you can't help me with what comes next. This I have to do alone."

"Is it some kind of Klingon thing you have to do?"

"No. It's a 'Nyofu thing' I have to do. I have to talk to my daughter. Have to make sure her idealism and fear of taking chances isn't leading her into something she'll regret. I won't be at tomorrow's conference, so you'll have to handle your presentation yourself. I'll be going back to Kenya later tonight."

"So I'll see you back at the University?"

"Yes."

"Nyofu, there is so much I don't know about you."

"Well then, I guess I've finally proved to you that you don't know everything."

Dr. Twombly continued to look at my mother. "You're so much more than what you appear to be. That's why I didn't ask them to reassign you when I realized who the department had given me as an advisee. Nyofu, tell me. If I was twenty years younger, would I have had a chance with you?"

My mother looked at her advisor as if he'd lost whatever was left of his mind. "We've been over this before, Eric. I think you were too drunk to stand up straight the last time you got started on this subject. You're not my type, and you know it. Why are you even asking?"

Dr. Twombly started laughing, pleased to have riled my mother up. "A man like me just isn't exciting enough for a woman like you, I suppose. So, the gifted writer everyone back at the University assumed was too calm and orderly for you turned out to be part Klingon. And Dr. Galinor from the Computer Sciences department told me last week that he heard your sister was shacked up with an Andorian up in Juneau, Alaska. You Uhura women like your men exotic, it seems." Dr. Twombly paused in his latest rant. He looked at me, looked at Spock, and then looked at me again. He knew. I couldn't explain it, but he knew. He started shaking his head. "Yes indeed, you Uhura women like your men exotic."

"What are you babbling about now, Eric?"

The older man left the room, leaving my mother with the image of his Cheshire cat smile.

"Eric isn't the most socially aware person in the world when it comes to certain things, but he's damn good a putting together pieces of a puzzle." My mother turned away from the closing door and towards Spock and me, fixing each of us with a penetrating stare. "He noticed something." Nyofu's voice began to lose its tone of wonder as it crept down towards the dusky alto I knew all too well. She stuck her chin out in my direction, indicating that she was addressing me. "You've got just a touch of that antelope-in-the-headlights look that you get when you've been caught ass deep in something. And this one," she pushed her chin towards Spock as she continued speaking. "Who the hell really knows what goes on in a Vulcan mind?" The space between Spock's eyebrows wrinkled for a nanosecond. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star." Her eyes finally rested on me, since my name meant star. "How I wonder just what the hell _you've_ gotten yourself into this time?" Again, she paused, as if she was waiting for something to happen. Not getting the response she wanted, she pressed on. "But my analysis can wait. Come, Nyota. We have much to discuss, and my time is even more limited than it was before. Let's get out of here, and find something to eat before my return flight. You're welcome to come with us, Commander. I owe you, at least, a meal for helping me earlier. And there is much more I'd like to discuss with you. I think there's a vegetarian restaurant somewhere in the terminal. This is California, after all."

The Uhura family had provided enough entertainment for the employees of the San Francisco International Air and Spaceport for one evening. Nyofu had the _jinaq_ back. All I wanted to do was just get out of the damn airport so I could finish telling her what I was thinking. It had felt good to ask her the questions instead of be stuck answering them like a guilty little kid. But it had also been unsettling to hear her version of things. She was right; I'd never actually asked her about any of the details about my father. I'd always depended on what other people told me because I'd been a little afraid of how she'd react. In truth, I really didn't know which version of the truth to trust anymore. Spock and I helped my mother gather her things, and we left the secure sector of the airport. On our way out, under the scrutiny of the security guards and employees she'd injured, my mother surprised me again by showing me just how many languages, Terran and alien, she could drop an f-bomb in. But all of that was really white noise in my mind. If Dr. Twombly had figured out that Spock and I were a couple, it wouldn't take my mother much longer to realize it, too. And if she'd realized it already, she'd comment on the matter very soon. This wasn't over by a long shot.


	10. Pause

A/N: Thanks to Aashlee Elizabeth for being my beta, and to Bookdragon01 for reminding me to keep at this tale.

**CHAPTER TEN: Pause**

We were walking through the terminal towards the food court. It was still a toss-up between an Indian restaurant and a Chinese restaurant, both serving vegan food, but we had to find the places first. The walk was supposed to give us time to choose. I was worried about what would happen when my mother and I sat down together. Our words earlier had been civil enough, but anyone who knew us well would have been able to tell that this was just the calm before the shit-storm. Khalil would have known that the wisest thing to do was to place his rather noticeable frame in the space between us and loom over us as a reminder that we were supposed to _remain_ civil, or else be given a chance to demonstrate our teamwork skills. On occasions when our bickering (according to him, the bitch-fest) was giving him a headache, Khalil would find an enclosed space (usually maintenance closet, occasionally a dumpster), put both of us into it (as in lift us while kicking and screaming), and block the exit (as in slam the door shut and stand in front of it) until we'd found a way to work together to get out. The last time he'd done it, my mother and I had had to crawl through a few air vents to get out of a records storage room at the University where she worked. It was intense bonding session, to say the least, but afterwards, neither my mother nor I wanted to finish the argument. Unfortunately, Khalil wasn't here to referee this time. Spock knew me only somewhat, and he didn't know my mother at all. Shit's Creek was beginning to look like nice place compared to where I feared we were heading.

She knew. I just knew she knew about Spock and me. My mother studied people the way I studied languages. Nyofu was many things, but she wasn't stupid. Belatedly, I realized that I should have considered that Spock's presence would be enough to set off her mental scanners. How she was going to take knowing what he was to me, and what she planned to do with that knowledge, was the great unknown. Maybe I was worrying too much? I was sure she knew, and she hadn't done anything more serious than pick at me and poke at him. Maybe she was mellowing in her old age? And maybe there was a shiny bridge out over the bay that was for sale, really cheap?

"Are you ill, Ms. Kiteme?" Spock asked my mother as he watched her close her eyes and swallow hard several times.

"Those uncivilized assholes masquerading as security personnel didn't even see fit to offer me much food and water the entire time they had me locked up. Hunger is making me nauseous, Commander. Add to that the fact that I've had a long day, and you've got a great recipe for exhaustion. I don't travel alone very often, and never this far from home when I'm alone. Usually, my husband accompanies me, or I travel with Eric, or an entire team of researchers." My mother came to a full stop and closed her eyes again, taking slow, deep breaths.

"If your need for sustenance is that great, then we need to determine a venue for eating and go directly there."

Eyes still closed, my mother nodded in agreement. "Good thinking. No wonder the quadrant is safe with you around to think of ingenious solutions to such disastrous situations." Spock regarded my mother for a moment with his eyebrow poised on 'curious,' then he turned and walked over to a kiosk a few feet away to ask the attendant about the exact locations of the restaurants we were considering.

"Was that last crack really necessary? He was just making a suggestion."

"Of course it was. He's a Vulcan. What do I do when I get around Vulcans?"

"You really have to stop doing that. There might come a day when you actually _like_ being around them." I hoped. Her learning to like Vulcans would make those occasions when the Ambassador and his wife were in attendance bearable. I knew I didn't have the strength that both she and Khalil had when it came to putting up with my grandmother.

"I've only met one Vulcan in my days that I thought was halfway tolerable and _he_ was an outcast to them. _V'tosh ka'tur_, they called him. Without logic. I know how it feels to be considered illogical and out of my rabbit-assed mind. That _alone_ was enough for me to try to get to know him. In his honor, I ruffle the feathers of any Vulcan I meet."

This was the first time I'd ever heard about my mother having any positive encounters with Vulcans, so I said so. "I've never heard you mention anything good about Vulcans."

She gave me a long look, shaking her head while she did so. "I'm not your grandmother, Nyota. I don't hate Vulcans because they're different from me. I don't hate them at all. I just disagree with their insistence that there's only one proper way to behave. I've been on the receiving end of the disapproval of one too many Vulcan professors in my day. They remind me of your grandmother that way. That makes me wary of them. But even they can be rattled into admitting that they don't know everything, and that they're not always right. Unlike that woman…" My mother's eyes took on a look that was pregnant with simmering emotions: confusion, rage, disappointment, resolution. She closed her eyes again, swallowed down whatever was billowing to the surface.

"Mama, seriously now, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, Nyota. Let me be." She opened her eyes and looked at me. "It's nothing that can't be cured by a little food and rest. And time." Something softened in her look, but I wasn't sure what. I continued to stare at my mother. She did look tired, but other than that, I couldn't see anything wrong with her. In fact, the longer I looked at her, the more she started to look annoyed. "Shouldn't you be helping the pointed-eared eagle scout find us a place to eat like a good little cadet?"

"Stop picking on him. He's not a little boy playing at being a superhero. He really is a Starfleet officer. One of the Academy's most distinguished graduates."

"Star-struck much, Daughter? You sound like his PR person. Or maybe a walking recruitment ad. 'Join Starfleet, and you, too, can worship the ground the wise Commander Spock walks on.'"

I so hated it when she started using the tone of voice she was using right then. It always made me feel like an idiot. And I was already feeling like one for just how much I'd kept from the man I loved. My mother and Khalil didn't keep secrets from each other. From other people, yes. Even from me, yes, since there were things I sincerely didn't know about them as a couple. But not from each other. I knew that. She'd told me that at dinner the last time I'd been home. Screaming across the dinner table with blood streaming down her arm from where she'd used her nails to gouge a small hole in it, rather than vent her true feelings for my grandmother, she'd told me.

'_If you truly love this mystery man like you say you do, open your soul to him. Let him look inside. Let him decide if he's man enough to stand beside the woman you are. This man has known me all my life. He knows who I am, and who I'm not. And he's still here. Even her meddling can't break that. Do you hear that, Ukarimu? He knows everything about me, everything that happened during those years apart. And he's told me everything, too. There are no secrets between us. If your love is going to last beyond your graduation and the safe insulation of the Academy, Nyota, there can't be secrets. Secrets kill love. Secrets divide the best of friends.' _

So why was it so hard to tell the truth to both my mother and Spock?

Talking to my mother was probably difficult because of what Ukarimu said after Nyofu married Khalil. What should have been the happiest day for them was one of the ugliest things I'd ever seen. It should have been a happy day for me, too, since I had finally gotten what I'd always wanted: them together. But it left me frightened, confused, and my sense of family loyalty split in two. Nyofu and Khalil were strong enough to face her and laugh. I wasn't strong enough for that. Makini showed us all at Christmas that even though she took the quiet route in life, she was just as strong as her sister, strong enough to quietly accept her mother's words, expecting nothing less from Ukarimu. I didn't think I had that kind of dignity. I knew if I had told my family everything that night at dinner, I wouldn't have been spared. My grandmother's awfulness would have been for me as well. That would have killed something inside me.

Spock's suspicion of the people I loved intensified my other fear. Would he have loved me at all if he'd known all of my history? And now that he knew, was I still good enough to bring home to the Ambassador and his wife? He'd told me about T'Pring, and how he hoped he never had to marry her. He'd told me all about how disappointed his father had been with him when he'd chosen Starfleet over remaining on Vulcan and following in Sarek's footsteps by attending the Vulcan Science Academy. But I had kept secrets from him. I was sorry about that, so sorry.

But I couldn't say any of that to either of them, could I?

So instead, I concentrated on something immediate, something I could handle. I stuck my bottom lip and pouted.

"I was just trying to help. Sorry I bothered."

"Help me by being honest with me. Why is _he_ here instead of your boyfriend? I invited Commander Spock to dinner with us as a way to say thank you, since you and Khalil are always telling me I should be more polite to people, but truthfully, this is a family matter. He's not family. He doesn't belong here."

"He belongs here," I muttered.

"Why?"

Note to self. Kick yourself in the ass as soon as you get a chance. Why did I just say that? I was trying to find the right way to inform her that she'd eventually have a Vulcan son-in-law. Blurting out that he belonged was so not the right way to inform her.

"Because I value his opinion, Mama." Okay, that was lame.

"Just like that? Whatever Nyota wants, Nyota gets? I seriously doubt it's that simple. Why would an instructor, especially one with his rank in Starfleet, take time out of his busy day just to hold a favorite cadet's hand? Add to that the fact that he's Vulcan. Vulcans don't do anything without a reason that can be defended if someone questions their logic. No, Daughter. It's not as simple as you say. Why would he help me? What does he get out of it?"

My mother's eyes bored into mine, but it wasn't the hostile look I'd been bracing myself for. Her look was more… expectant. She was waiting for me to tell her something, anything. Nyofu continued talking.

"Why isn't your boyfriend here instead of the Commander? Lover-boy couldn't be bothered to meet his girlfriend's mother? Earlier Commander Spock said something about providing moral support for you. Is your boyfriend such an asshole that you need to cry on Spock's shoulder about him all of the time? Or did you bring Spock with you because you thought he'd make a better presentation? Have an instructor verify to your mother what great progress you're making in your classes so she won't be concerned about any failures you're making in your private life?"

Nyofu was fishing again, and while the fish she wanted to catch were definitely there, I didn't like the bait she had on her hook. Why did my boyfriend have to be an asshole? Didn't she think I could tell the difference between a nice guy and an idiot? Guys like Cadet Kirk were idiots. I'd avoided falling to his charms for years. Spock was different. Why was she so convinced I didn't know what I was doing?

"I have the information we require to make a decision."

Spock rejoined us with the exact location of both restaurants, as well as printouts containing their menus. The Indian restaurant won, since it had lots of offerings. We made a beeline for the place, smelling the food well before we spotted it.

"Do you have any secluded booths? Like ones suitable for a business meeting?" I asked the waiter who came to seat us. I really didn't want the entire restaurant to be privy to our conversation. We were shown to a cozy semi-circular booth near the back of the restaurant. My mother sat on the left, and Spock took the right side, leaving me in the middle. It seemed right, since I had to find a way to communicate with both of them. The waiter took our orders.

And then we proceeded to stare at each other.


	11. Stare

A/N: Spoiler alert for those of you reading my other story, Skin. But you still have to read it to see how it gets to where things are here. Remember, that one really is a prequel/flashback.

Chapter Eleven: Stare

Stare. Mirar fijamente. Mitsumeru. Kungethia. Regard. Stirre. Starren. Staren. Nantau. Stare.

Staring is a form of communication that few people understand. They underestimate its impact because it is such a simple act: looking intensely at a particular object, or person, or even off into space seemingly at nothing. And yet, volumes of information can be exchanged in mere seconds. You can indicate interest, display disgust, and convey confusion. Hostility and/or humiliation can roll off a person in waves when he or she is staring. A sentient being may be completely dismissed, made to feel as though he or she is as low as a clump of bacteria on a table top. No, made to feel lower than the clump of bacteria, since the bacteria will garner enough notice to be eradicated. But if a being chooses not to see another by staring _through_ the space the other occupies, or chooses to simply stare just _past_ that individual and order lunch, or go on with life as usual as if the other being was not occupying any space at all…that is _power_. No, most people don't understand the exact psychology of a stare. However, all people feel the impact of a stare, and all react to one.

Stare.

This is how it's done. The person in the position of power chooses the moment the staring begins, chooses the duration of time for the staring, or not staring, and chooses the emotion that will come from the eyes.

Mirar fijamente.

I've caught my mother and Khalil staring at each other. Sometimes the look is warm and fuzzy, sort of a

"_Come here and let me hold you,"_

or, an

"_I'm still here and I always will be"_

kind of stare. Those are quick, followed by a wink or a smile. And other times, I've had to leave the room because their stares at each other are too intense, too much heat. Those stares don't have words imbedded in them, except maybe

"_Now."_

"_Where?" _

"_Here."_

That's when I cough and excuse myself, suddenly remembering that I've got a xenolinguistics project to work on. I understand those looks completely, though. Spock and I look at each other the same way when no one is watching. There's no shame there, no holding back. Only openness, need, and love.

Mitsumeru.

I've watched my grandmother, Ukarimu, stare at my uncle, Hodari. I've watched her stare at him and remind him that he was not welcome in her world, as if the circumstances of his birth were somehow his own choosing, and not one of her mistakes. Hodari always flinched from her gaze. I don't think he could help it. He always dropped his obsidian eyes to the floor, as if not seeing what was in his mother's eyes would shelter him from the wave of

"_Why aren't you dead yet?"_

that was surely assailing his psyche when she stared at him. My uncle was Chief of Security on the U.S.S. Farragut. His job was a dangerous one, but for Hodari, the clever one, it was the only way to bring order to his world. He has spent his entire life trying to keep everyone around him at peace. Keeping order was one of the only ways to quiet the voices, the fears, and the pain streaming into his head from all around. And so he did his best to help keep the quadrant at rest. He fought when he had to. Most of the time, however, he was everyone's touchstone, the one they all felt better after talking to for a little while. Through his cleverness, he was the calm in the storm. Everyone felt safer when he was around. The situation stopped seeming hopeless once he was on the scene. But the eyes of his mother only asked him

"_Why aren't you dead yet?"_

whenever he came home to Nyeri to see his wife and children. Hodari's family shared the compound we lived in, but they kept to themselves as much as possible. Hodari had felt they'd be safer if they lived near Kwasi, the parent he was close to. Safety, and it gave Kwasi a chance to look for signs that any of my uncle's children were like their father. The oldest two were showing the signs, and they avoided their grandmother. Hodari sighed loud and long when his mother stared at him. How long was he going to be blamed for what _she_ did? Then, he'd look up from the floor and meet her gaze, returning her stare with one of his own, with the pure beauty of his black-on-black eyes wordlessly reminding the empress that she was naked for all to see.

"_I see you. We all see you. I'm proof that you're a liar."_

Now that I understand the stares between them, I've always wondered if he whispered those words into her mind as well.

Kungethia.

For my mother, Ukarimu's eyes were cold gray-brown steel, never warm, never revealing that there must have been a time when she counted tiny toes and fingers and sang nonsensical songs to make her infant daughter laugh.

"_I hate you. You're always there to remind me of what I was never able to do. Even when you stumble, you land on your feet. I. Hate. You."_

My mother not only stared back with cold nut-brown steel of her own, she added the nastiest smile, one that contained challenge and triumph. Nyofu's return stare seemed to say

"_Feeling frogish, fucking hypocrite bitch? Go ahead and leap. I'll catch you."_

I saw my mother's eyes fill with something else when she looked at her mother that night. It showed in Nyofu's eyes that she'd been badly hurt by something her mother had done. My mother's arm was bleeding into her dinner because she was using every bit of restraint she had. Nyofu clawed her arm instead of her mother's face. And she smiled.

Ukarimu stared as she watched the blood drip, blood that was partly hers. She stared at the tiny clothes my mother had brought downstairs with her, clothes that still looked brand new despite being twenty-one years old. The clothes had been removed from their original wrappings for the first time before she'd come downstairs, having been discovered in a box in my mother's old room. Tiny clothes that were supposed to be mine: a gift from the man who was holding my mother's shoulders, who looked torn between consoling his wife and letting her go claw her mother's eyes out. Had my mother received the gift twenty-one years ago as she was supposed to, she would have known back then that Khalil was willing to raise me as his own from the beginning. Instead, they both lived out nineteen years believing that there was no chance to make real what had been forbidden by my mother's age when it first flared to life. They both had suffered during those years. That evening, Ukarimu dropped her eyes first, afraid of her own daughter for the first time.

Regard.

I've watched Ukarimu stare at my uncle, Hakimu, too, as if her eyes were a medical tricorder examining his DNA, trying to spot the very moment in his development, or in time, when _he_ went wrong, when he changed from being an agent of her will within our household to one who made and enforced his own interpretation of the law.

"_Why have you turned against me?"_

Hakimu's eyes were the same shade of brown as Ukarimu's, but they looked empty as they stared across the table at the woman who had spent so many years doting on him.

"_I once was lost, but now I'm found, was blind, but now, I see."_

It was Hakimu who helped Khalil get my mother seated, helped Khalil bandage Nyofu's arm for the trip back to the Kiteme's house where she lived. The two men stared at each other for a long moment during the patching up.

"_Am I forgiven, my brother?"_

"_I should say no, but of course you are."_

I thought about what my mother suspected: that Hakimu had moved from being Security to Intelligence. And I pitied anyone under his microscope that might have to face those pitiless staring eyes. Hakimu could be warm and charming, seductive even. But he had another face. Today, my actions put the man I loved under that microscope. What verdict would The Judge finally come to? Would he decide Spock was a good man, or would Hakimu decide Spock was dangerous?

Stirre.

Ukarimu stared at my aunt, Makini, with new eyes that night. The look was a composite one: there was some of the confusion she showed when she looked at Hakimu:

"_How could you do this to me? Why?"_

There was the raw anger that accompanied the looks at Nyofu:

"_Alien loving slut! Here I've sheltered you, cared for, and you turn out to be no better than that one? Worse?" _

There was even some of the look that Hodari usually got:

"_The explosion should have taken you. That would be better than this." _

Makini, keeper of secrets had finally shared some of her own. Her secrets had come to the door on three pairs of feet. They had come to support her, had come to defend her, had come to take her home. Makini had come home to tell us all about the life she'd been leading, to let us know that she was an Uhura after all, and she had to live free. No caged birds, no dreams deferred. Makini held her head high and leaned back into the embrace of the Andorian male who had identified himself as Shres. The fingers of Makini's right hand were interlaced with the fingers of the Andorian female named Tahmia. The other Andorian male, Thelyn, held onto her left hand. Makini stared back at Ukarimu.

"_I'm sorry you don't approve, Mama, but this is who I am."_

Starren.

Ukarimu stared at Khalil with undisguised hate. That was nothing new. But I noticed something else in her hate that I'd never noticed before: blame. She blamed Khalil for what was happening that night.

"_This is what happens when people like you are allowed to live beside us. You've taken them all from me. All of them."_

Staren.

And I saw Khalil, the man who had tried to heal what was wrong in my mother's life, meet Ukarimu's eyes with a stare that reminded us all of exactly what flowed in his veins. He was through with allowing her to insult him. He was through with trying to be the peacemaker and the voice of reason.

"_Hurt either of us again, and I'll kill you."_

Nantau.

My grandfather, Kwasi, wasn't safe from her gaze, either. He never was. She stared at him, tried to cajole him into rushing in and throwing the thieves out of the temple, waited for him to enforce her idea of justice, as he always had before.

"_Do you see how they're treating me? Make them leave this house and never come back! Be a man, and make them sorry for what they've done."_

But Kwasi's eyes held no comfort for her this time. He was tired of doing her bidding, and he drew the line at banishing his children from his home to please her. They were Uhuras. Uhuras had to be free. They each had a right to decide their lives for themselves. He stared at her for a long time, with eyes just as pitiless as Hakimu's; then, he stood up from the table as straight as his aged back would allow. Kwasi rarely showed his temper, but when he did, the significance could not be ignored. All of his children possessed something of his, even his step-son. If Hodari would feel it, Nyofu would say it, Hakimu would do it, and Makini would believe in it.

"_Not this time. Blame yourself. Fix it yourself."_

Stare.

And then, Ukarimu's eyes turned towards me, questioning. She was daring me to step outside the boundaries she'd obviously set for me. She wanted to know if her dreams were still alive in me.

"_Et tu?"_

I have an answer to her question. But the answer has green blood, pointed ears, and is telepathic. Me too. The knife is in my hand, but I'm not like the others. I'm not clever like Hodari, and not bold like Nyofu. I'm not calm like Makini, and not ruthless like Hakimu. I can't bear the world on my shoulders like Kwasi. I'm just me, the girl. When I'm in front of my grandmother, I'm just the girl. Maybe it isn't _just_ Nyofu's scrutiny that I'd like to go on avoiding. At least with my mother, I can argue.

But if I continued to avoid scrutiny, then I was continuing to play one of the many games I hated playing. I told Spock I wanted to end the games once and for all, tonight. And I meant it. So far, Spock has stood beside me the way my stepfather stood beside my mother. Those two were unshakable. But were Spock and I? Maybe there was hope.

I turned towards the center of my universe, allowed my eyes to _see_ him. Not around him, or through him, not to judge him, or dissect him, not to blame him, or to shame him, not to remind him that he's different from me, but just to see him and acknowledge him, to let him know I'm glad he's there. Attuned to my slightest movement, Spock broke off staring at Nyofu and turned towards me. Briefly, we made eye contact. There was the tiniest glimmer of recognition, the hint of the muscles around his eyes relaxing. Behind my eyes, I felt the mental equivalent of a kiss on my forehead. And then, it was gone. His gaze traveled back to Nyofu, who was now slowly sipping the tea the waiter brought while I was remembering a nightmare. Or was that the memory of my welcome home dinner?

I let my eyes take me to where his had gone: onto my mother's silent form. She was sitting there, so still, so calm, her eyes staring at a place just to the left of the bowl of sweetener on the table. What was she thinking? It was as if Spock and I were not there. Nyofu was focused inward on something. Her face held the same calm determination Makini's often held. Whatever was on her mind, she'd dedicated herself to seeing it through. Feeling my eyes on her, she looked up and focused completely on me. Waiting.

Stare. Mirar fijamente. Mitsumeru. Kungethia. Regard. Stirre. Starren. Staren. Nantau. Stare.


	12. Little Things Give You Away

A/N: Sorry this took so long. RL is what it is, and doesn't care if it gets in the way of a story. For those who haven't figured it out yet, Spock and Nyota are dressed in casual clothing to make it unlikely anyone will realize they are connected with Starfleet, and each other, in any significant way. I wasn't trying to be cryptic. I just forgot to explicitly mention it. I'm close to wrapping this up, so the chapters will appear more often and the pace will pick up.

.

**Chapter 12: Little Things Give You Away**

**.**

**.**

Our food decided to arrive at that moment. The alu paratha, basmati rice, palak paneer and mango lassi were for me. The chapattis, Kashmiri pullav, and Massala tea were for Nyofu. Spock was served paratha, mixed vegetable biryani, and mineral water.

"Commander Spock," my mother began in a patient, but firm, tone she usually reserved for wet-behind-the-ears undergrads that thought xenoanthropology was an easy three credits, "let me formally thank you for your help in getting me out of the mess I was in this afternoon."

Spock gravely nodded his head in acknowledgement of her thank you. "I was in a position where I could assist you in proving your innocence more expediently than waiting for someone from Starfleet to arrive at the terminal." Spock's tone conveyed his sense of rightness concerning his actions. "It was logical for me to do so, thereby keeping the situation from becoming more complicated."

An amused light went on in Nyofu's eyes. "Logical, you say?" Nyofu snickered. "No, Commander Spock. It was _not_ logical for you to help me. You don't know me from Adam's housecat. It would have been far more logical, and practical, for you to have stayed out of it. When you arrived with my daughter, I assumed you were, at best, from the Vulcan Embassy or, at worst, another useless cadet." Nyofu began digging into her meal, ignoring the tiny wrinkle between Spock's eyebrows that meant he was taken aback. Mouth full of food, she seemed to sense that he was frozen in place by her words; she looked up from her food and pointed in his general direction with her fork. "We'll talk later, Commander. First, we eat."

Spock raised an eyebrow at my mother's tone, but didn't ask what she meant. He lowered his eyes, outwardly turned his attention towards his food, and inwardly turned his attention towards me.

"_Nyota, why did your mother's tone seem to indicate that she believes I had an ulterior motive for assisting her earlier?" _

I could feel that he was clearly unsure of how to respond to my mother, and was now expecting me to give him a clue. I gave the equivalent of a mental sigh and answered him. _ "Because Spock, according to her way of thinking, you do. She knows there's something between us. She knows."_

"_I agree with your assessment that she is aware that you and I are more than former instructor and student. However, she is mistaken if she believes that I assisted her with the expectation of gaining sexual favors from you. In determining whether I would be able to assist her, I theorized that I would make a more favorable impression to her if I were helpful. A potential son-in-law is expected to prove his worthiness to join a family. My willingness to assist her should provide evidence that I would be a worthy addition to your family. Was I mistaken in making such an assumption?"_

"_You're not wrong to try to help, Spock, but I'm not sure my mother is going to agree with your logic."_

"Later, you two. Let's eat in silence the way Vulcans do, in honor of our guest, yes? We'll talk later," my mother repeated, giving the first indication that she'd been aware of our mental conversations.

So we ate our much desired food in silence, in honor of our Vulcan guest. And that was a good thing, since it gave me time to think.

I was still upset about Nyofu's earlier remarks about me, and I planned to let her know it, but it didn't… _feel…_ like the right time to get into it with her about what she'd said, for lack of a better way to explain what was gnawing at me. Anyway, I was still too freaked out by the memory of the disaster that was my homecoming dinner. That was supposed to be _my_ night, _my_ moment to bask in everyone's attention, regardless of how much they disliked each other, _my_ time to shine and show off. Instead, every bit of my hard won glory was usurped by everyone else. A 4.0 average just doesn't compete with finding out that your quiet librarian-type aunt is part of an alien foursome, or any other bit of dirty laundry that was aired. It left me feeling angry and ignored. And the rest of it…the pain at that table, the grown-up realization that no amount of talking it out would ever fix what was wrong with the Uhuras as a family. Even now, I could still see my mother in Khalil's arms, with her eyes going between catatonic and demonic. And every time one of her gazes landed on me, all I could do was wonder if I would react that way if someone tried to tear me and Spock apart the way my grandmother sabotaged my mother and Khalil. Would the idea of losing precious time with Spock reduce me to such an uninhibited display? I wasn't sure which thought frightened me more: the thought that I would fight like hell without thinking about how I looked, or who got hit in the crossfire if someone, or something, tried to take him away from me, or the thought that I would just let him go without a fight because I was afraid of how other people would take it, or how much the fight would take out of me?

Midway through my last bite of food, I noticed that my mother was staring at me again. There must have been something on my face, some little trace of anger, pain, or fear from my stroll down awful Memory Lane because my mother lessened the intensity of her gaze _just_ a little bit. It became more thoughtful, rather than expectant. It was kind of like the difference between a vulture gazing pitilessly at you as it waited for you to weaken and die, and a crow gazing speculatively at you as it wondered how it was going to get that tasty-looking nugget it watched you stash in your pocket. Nyofu flicked a quick glance across the table at Spock, meeting his eyes for all of five seconds. Neither one flinched. I don't know what she saw there: whether she saw something she was looking for, or if she saw something she didn't like. Hell, how the hell would I know what she saw? The biggest thing I was learning tonight was that I didn't know my own mother as well as I thought I did.

All my life, Nyofu's behavior had always seemed easy to categorize: right or wrong, antisocial or mainstream, violent or tolerant, demanding or nonchalant. But tonight, waiting for me to talk, instead of insisting that I talk… It was like I was dealing with a different woman. Or maybe I was just seeing her for myself for the first time, instead of seeing her through my grandmother's eyes. I looked at my mother as deeply as she'd looked at me earlier. Slowly, it dawned on me. In the midst of all the psychic carnage on going around the dinner table the last time I'd seen her, the last vestiges of the Nyofu Uhura I knew had died, consumed by the reality of the depths of her mother's betrayal. Nyofu Kiteme had taken her place.

That's what was different. From the time I'd met him, Khalil had said that my mother was capable of making rational decisions and changing her behavior when the old patterns no longer suited the situation. I was seeing that now. It was frightening to realize that someone knew my mother better than I did, that there was a translation of "Nyofuese" that I wasn't familiar with. It felt alien in a way that being with other sentient beings from all over Federation space for the first time during freshman year hadn't. I truly had no idea who _this_ woman was. Wasn't there some rule somewhere that stated that your parents couldn't change after you left home, couldn't ever be someone other than who _you_ knew them to be?

I thought about the game plan Spock had helped me come up with. Could I still stand up to my mother that way if Nyofu didn't play her usual role?

I watched warily as Nyofu started making a survey of our surroundings, her head turning in a very owlish way at the neck. On an ordinary day, I would have guessed she was considering the public nature of the space we were sitting in, the locations of exits, and possibly the amount of damage that could occur within the restaurant. Now, I wasn't sure what she was up to. Survey completed, my mother's face and body settled into an expression and a posture that she used so often she should have applied for a patent on it, one that announced that she was about to say whatever was on her mind without regard for anyone else's presence. At least that was familiar. So I grasped that thread, and readied myself to reply to whatever she said in a tone that would be just as scathing hers.

Nyofu turned her attention towards the man I loved. Her non-threatening, 'I'm-not-going-to-fuck-with-you-this-time,' tone didn't quite gel with the expression on her face as she began addressing him. Whatever she was about to do was costing her something.

"I hope your meal was satisfactory, Commander?" Nyofu was staring at Spock, with a small smile on her face. It was not a stare of challenge, exactly, but it was still a stare. Just like with my grandmother, for Nyofu, staring was a form of combat. I was pretty sure my mother had been actively studying Spock as we ate, trying to figure out exactly which approach would give her the best advantage. She had tested him earlier, probably forming hypotheses about him. Now, it seemed like she was about to put her hypotheses to more specific tests. As far as I could tell, what she wanted most was to make him leave. If that was the case, then she would do whatever it took to accomplish her goal, even if that meant completely insulting him. She knew Vulcans had emotions, knew a lot about their pre-Surakian culture. But just because Nyofu knew something, it didn't mean she would heed any warnings such information suggested.

"It was, Ms. Kiteme."

"And you, Nyota? Where did you go just now?"

A question: asked calmly and addressed to me. I couldn't see a legitimate reason not to answer my mother. Shakily, I answered her. "I was remembering the last time we sat down to dinner together." My voice was empty, honest. That seemed the best way to go when dealing with a stranger.

"I was thinking about it, too, Nyota, me too." Nyofu sighed as she shook her head negatively. Regrets? Regrets that she hadn't lunged across the table and broken her mother's neck? Or that she hadn't demanded I tell her who my lover was in front of everyone? "That night has had lasting repercussions, just like so many other miserable nights in my life. But, at least this time, pleasant things will come out of being at the center of a maelstrom. That's what I need to talk to you about. But first, let me do one of the things I came here to do, lest the men be proven right about me not being able to stop looking backwards as I walk forward."

My mother reached down into her bag, and brought out the small case she'd stuffed into it earlier at the airport. "Commander, in all honesty, I was about to ask you to leave so I could talk to my daughter in private. But now that I think about it, I think it's very appropriate that you're here right now. Listen well, and understand. I am about to free you from a shitload of guilt concerning your favorite student."

"'A shitload of guilt'? Ms. Kiteme, I fail to see how my assisting you in a moment of crisis is in any way related to any supposed feelings of guilt about my professional relationship with your daughter."

My mother raised her right index finger and waved it from side to side at him. "I'm a trained observer, Commander Spock. Your assistance in this instance was only logical if doing so gained you something, or kept something in balance, shall we say? What did you gain, Commander? What was kept in balance?"

My mother's words proved that I was right about her thoughts on Spock's assistance. He kept silent as she continued, staring intently at her with a look that was quickly losing its polite blankness.

"Your silent, but constant, attentiveness to every move Nyota made caused me to pay more attention to your body language, which your people do have, if a person knows what to look for, and I do. I applaud you on your emotional control, but I've had more years at ruffling Vulcan feathers than you've had at controlling whatever mixed-breed emotions you have. I've been ass deep in varying degrees of human-Klingon emotions for as long as I can remember, and that's a hell of a mix, but Vulcan-human emotions? Now that's a mix I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. And folks say _I'm_ bipolar."

Spock continued to stare at my mother. It was natural for him to stare, natural for him to focus all of his attention intently on one thing. His tendency to stare at people caused predictable responses in others. They confused his interest in analyzing a situation with hostile intent and/or disapproval and became angry at him. They confused his concentration on the face and eyes with sexual desire and got flustered. Some people got paranoid. Me, I usually got chills down my spine when he focused all of his attention on something I said or did. Just knowing that he was truly considering the merit of my argument or suggestion in the way that only _he_ did... It never failed to do something major for me… except for right then. Since it was beyond clear to both of us that my mother knew Spock was my hidden boyfriend, whatever was said now would set the stage for discussions with my side of the family on our plans to get married. And instead of feeling all mushy and excited on a multitude of levels, I was feeling downright confused as I kept feeling all of my levels of emotion congeal into one roiling mass in the pit of my stomach.

I had absolutely no idea what to tell him. I had told Spock I needed his help, his support, his protection even, from whatever my mother was likely to throw at me. He'd come to this meeting loaded for what my memories suggested. But now, everything looked different. I supposed I could view the situation as _Kobayashi Maru:_ the Communications Edition. Certainly how I handled this situation would shed some light on how I was likely to handle tense situations between the Federation and new civilizations, where accurate and insightful communication between the parties could spell a new alliance, or the letting loose of the dogs of war, yes? If that was the case, then Spock and I were both so very, very fucked. If I had explained my family to Spock from the beginning, he'd know by now the right way to approach my mother. He was the son of an Ambassador, for goodness sake. He was used to special protocols for approaching people. Hell, if I shared everything with him from the beginning, I'd have some idea of what to suggest to him now based on how much I'd told him before, and how he'd reacted to it.

Like I said, we were fucked.

With deliberate slowness, Nyofu opened the case and pulled out the pendant that had gotten her detained. My mother held the pendant up to the light over our heads in the restaurant, and the three of us watched as it glittered. Looking directly at Spock, she began to explain.

"Dr. Twombly was right, you know. This shouldn't be here. But not for the reasons he thinks. On another world, a pendant like this would be a symbol that a female had reached an age where she could choose a mate." Nyofu continued with her story.

"Koreth, the actual owner of this pendant, once had a daughter he intended to give this to. But the damned Virus took her before it could be contained, and she never reached the proper age. Then, when he mated again, he produced a son, no daughters. And his son, Keth, also only produced a son, Khalil."

Nyofu turned her eyes away from Spock and focused completely on me, holding out the _jinaq_ to me as if it were an offering. "This should go to Khalil's first-born daughter. The men of the Kiteme family talked and agreed that this pendant shouldn't wait until Khalil produces a child of his own. He asked that it go to you, Nyota. You are the daughter of his heart. He would have adopted you at birth, but thanks to my mother, that adoption didn't occur until you were fourteen. It is now yours. In the eyes of the Kiteme family, in my eyes, you are old enough to be considered an adult, and old enough to choose a mate."


	13. Gift Horses

Chapter 13: Gift Horses

.

.  
Huh?

I barely heard my mother's words as I stared at the polished metal and gemstone necklaceshe held out towards me. A jolt of exhilaration vibrated through me as I realized that, fuck yes, I really had been right about her bringing the piece to me. _I_ was the female of the family who had reached adulthood. Me. She had said it in front of a witness, so there was no way she could take it back. I glowed with triumph, and a smile spread across my face as I imagined feeling the weight of the cool metal against my chest.

I felt Spock's fingers brush mine, and about a second later, I felt his mind ease into the space I always left open for him.

"_It is possible that you have misjudged your mother's ability to accept reality. Although she has been behaving in a less than socially acceptable manner, she has come to the same conclusion as the male members of your family. Your mother does not appear to be a person who would make a public declaration if she did not agree with the sentiment being expressed."_

Spock's words, meant to be words of encouragement, brought me back to earth. The smile that had been spreading across my face died right there and then. He was right about my mother, and he was so very wrong. My mother would never make any kind of public declaration of anything, whether she believed in it or not, _unless_ she felt she had a damn good reason.

"_No, Spock. It's not that simple." _

"_Is this not what you wanted, K'diwa? Your mother has acknowledged your right to make your own decisions."_

"_No, this fight is just beginning. Something's up, and I want to know what it is. They forced her to come here and make nice to me. They have something over her head."_

I shook my head from side to side and moved my hand out of his reach, as much to emphasize my negative response to his comments as to break the unwanted contact. I hoped he sensed why I was pushing him aside; there wasn't time to explain. There was something important going on, something just outside my understanding. I needed to see the big picture. The delicious distraction of Spock's mind touch, even though I knew he was just trying to be supportive, was a luxury I couldn't afford.

I raised my eyes from the _jinaq_ towards the woman who had offered it to me. The woman had the same brown eyes, and the same full lips, curled somewhere between a smirk and a snarl, that I knew I could expect to see on my mother. However, there was no way _this_ woman could actually _be_ my mother, because _my_ mother would have choked to death trying to let those words come out of her mouth. Nevertheless, the words _had_ come out of that smirking mouth, so maybe this moment was real. Maybe this new Nyofu was able to find something good inside me. Could I trust her? It was _so_ damn hard to tell. There was no one I could ask for advice; that would be proof that I wasn't ready to be a grown-up in her eyes. No, I had to run this gauntlet alone.

A gauntlet... There was something about that image, but I couldn't place it.

Nyofu continued to smirk at me. I continued to stare back, hoping my stare was letting her know that I wasn't going to fall for whatever game she was playing.

What had she said earlier?

'Koreth, Keth, and Khalil agreed that it was time to pass the _jinaq_

on to the female of the family who was old enough to take a mate…

Arguing with a quarter-blood Klingon is not wise, so I gave up when

Koreth himself, a full blood, asked me to give you what would have

gone to his daughter, had she lived long enough.'

I imagined the showdown that must have gone down before my mother got on that transport. Nyofu, with a deep furrow wrinkling her brow, folded her arms across her breasts. Her lips were in an angry pout, and she was standing her ground on her refusal to go to San Francisco. She was a notably small center point to a triangulation of large men with bad tempers. Khalil used his hands as he spoke, as he often did, probably making a fairly logical argument for why it was time to trust me to handle my own life. Maybe Keth had used humor in some crude way, as was his gift, reminding my mother that, at least physically, I wasn't her little girl any more. In the end, though, Koreth's words moved her heart. What could Koreth have said to get Nyofu to accept his request, get on a transport, and come so far from home alone when she was afraid of flying?

With the old man in mind, I looked at the _jinaq _one more time. Other than earlier today, the last time I had seen the_ jinaq_ was on my fifteenth birthday. Koreth had brought it out and told a story about his long-dead daughter. He told a story about a brave girl who never gave up, an intelligent girl who used her mind instead of force to overcome problems that got in her way, a resourceful girl who made the most of every opportunity. Koreth was _sure_ she would have left farm life behind and joined the Defense Force when she reached the Age of Ascension, and brought honor and glory to their humble family… had she lived. Instead, she died a victim of the plague that had threatened to kill them all. Her story was tragic and romantic all at the same time, so much promise cut short so young. It was just the sort of thing to set a girl like me to dreaming about other worlds and adventures. Then, as he smiled and put one of his huge hands gently on my shoulder, the old man brought his head down to my level. He said, "Perhaps someday, Nyota, you will leave home and bring us glory, as she would have."

When I had first met Koreth on the day I fell down that damn hill, I was afraid of him. Khalil had brought me to his family's house as he'd said he would. The old man, with his unruly, snow-white hair that swept back from his deeply receding hairline to end somewhere near his waist, had been sitting at the head of his family's table, unquestionably the monarch of his realm. His honey colored skin was lighter than that of Khalil and the other large man in the room, and his amber brown eyes gave him the appearance of a lion who was trying to decide whether I was prey or not. In a deep gravelly voice that boiled up from somewhere in his chest, he'd barked a few sentences at Khalil in a language I didn't understand. Khalil had answered in the same language, his tone respectful, but Khalil had seemed almost embarrassed. The old man took another long look at me, smiled, revealing wickedly pointed teeth, and said in Standard, "Welcome home."

On the night of my birthday, there was warmth and pride in Koreth's eyes, and no fear in me. No, I was too busy wondering what I could do to have his eyes shine when he told tales about my exploits. I had downloaded the brochure for Starfleet Academy the next day, and spent the next three years secretly planning my own road to glory.

I longed to take the _jinaq_, longed to claim it as my own, but something kept me from reaching out and accepting the mantle of adulthood that she offered me. Just like I couldn't help being suspicious about why my mother was suddenly offering it to me. Why not when I graduated from high school, or when I entered the Academy? Yes, Koreth had asked her, but there had to be more to it than that.

Everything I'd been holding inside all day began to burble to surface. I wanted answers. If I was an adult in her eyes, I had a right to demand them. Two twisters, made of fear, frustration, disappointment, and anger that had been years in the making, bored their respective ways up from my heart and down from my brain, meeting at my mouth.

I looked at my mother, fixed her brown eyes with my own, and said one word.

"Bullshit."


End file.
